


ever after

by ndnickerson



Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Cuddling & Snuggling, Demisexuality, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Love, First Meetings, Forced Marriage, Friends to Lovers, Loss of Virginity, Married Sex, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 05:26:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4612899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ned has no intention of ever marrying, Nancy has no intention of ever settling down, and love is just a fairy tale... until it turns into something more. (Fairy tale first meeting.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	ever after

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to my awesome beta, polkadottedmars, for checking this over for me! Any mistakes are mine.

The night sky was a perfect unmitigated black. The moon was gone, and the stars were out of sight, obscured by high purple-edged clouds. It was perfect. Ned stopped his cautious patrol and stood perfectly still, breathing in, recognizing all the fine signs: the cautious footfalls of a deer or some larger prey in the wooded area to his left, the various chirpings and calls of insects and birds, the faint scent of woodsmoke. He could also hear the muffled conversation and chuckles back from his own camp.

This area, the hill and the surrounding countryside, was clear. Ned had learned a long time ago not to let his guard down. The other men went along willingly enough when he asked them to patrol, but waiting was tedious, and though they weren't quite lulled into complacency, it wouldn't take long. They needed to head home or to the next skirmish.

The last eighteen months had been good. The men under his command were no longer strangers; they were brothers in arms, trusting each other with their lives, sharing hopes and dreams, and Ned had never felt happier. Burton, David, and Michael were his three closest friends, and they had already vowed to accompany him to his next destination, wherever it might be: the Holy Land, the darkest depths of another continent, they didn't mind.

He was an only child, his family of no particular account, claiming only a distant link to any royal blood. He had a few cousins he had seen every year or two since childhood. He had made a family, and a sense of purpose and fulfillment. His men had performed well under his command, and his body bore a few scars, the marks of lessons taught him by enemies. He had learned those lessons well.

Those lessons had taught him that the approaching hoofbeats meant no casual visit, not on a night like tonight, not at that speed.

The muffled conversation had faded as he stood, waiting, and Ned turned his head just before a twig snapped underfoot beside him. Mike stood there, nearly blending into the shadow. His hair was a shade darker than Ned's; his mouth, usually stretched into a wide grin as he regaled them all with tales of luck at the cards or with the ladies, was set in an almost grim line.

"Orders?"

Ned shook his head at the question, barely loud as a breath. "None yet."

The other men had dampened the fire and armed themselves, Ned noted with approval on his arrival. The rider was close, now. "Stay alert," he said quietly. "Dave? Anything?"

"Friendly colors, but..."

They were indeed friendly colors, Ned noted, when the rider approached the camp, palms up and out. "Edmund Nickerson, Baron Lockridge?" he called.

The pit of Ned's stomach turned cold. "I'm Edmund Nickerson."

The rider dismounted, dragging his fingers through a shock of disheveled sandy hair. "For you, sir."

He didn't need to read the message the rider began to pull out of his leather saddlebag, not now. He accepted it anyway.

So it was over, then. So it was over.

\--

The night was wet, cold and miserable. Nancy sat on the narrow bed that was hers for the night, her arms wrapped around her bent legs, watching the rain pour down outside, a small smile on her face. In return for her help, she had asked only for the dried flower that had given her the first clue. It was pressed between the pages of her journal now.

In the morning she would be back home; she was an hour's ride away. Her father would be glad to see her, and her grandfather too.

A small snore came from the other bed, and Nancy glanced over, her lips still turned up. Elizabeth and Georgianna were high-born ladies, possessing all the dubious talents that gentle breeding and a lady's education could provide, and were both bored to tears by their lives. Georgianna's father had expected a son, and had often encouraged her to neglect her music and art lessons to learn to hunt or shoot. Elizabeth, her cousin, was well-bred and genteel, her manners faultless, but once she and her cousin Georgianna had made Nancy's acquaintance and helped her in an adventure, a life of social calls and insipid entertainment had no longer been enough for her.

The three of them together could do anything, and they were the sisters Nancy had never had. She had been lonely as a child, too aware of her responsibilities and obligations; with them, she felt like she had finally found her place. She was content and happy. The rest of her life, all that she had been told it would entail—it didn't exist, when she was investigating a mystery.

She only wished that Bess and George had been a part of her life earlier... but nothing could be done about it now, and the three of them had promised that they would always be friends, would always be together. Nancy fully believed it was true. Oh, maybe Bess would marry one of the many flirtatious men who caught her eye, and fill a nursery with beautiful cheerful babies, but she would still help when she could, and Nancy and George had no intention of ever stopping. George's father had named his eldest nephew his heir, and George was under no pressure to ever settle down, unless she wished to do so. George's parents had discussed a match between her and another eligible young man, but his marriage earlier that year had settled the speculation.

At least Nancy hadn't been subject to such an arrangement. She shuddered at the thought, then turned to blow out the candle beside the bed before snuggling under the covers. It would be nice to be home, but only for a little while. Her father often joked that for every day she spent at home, she spent at least three away.

Her grandfather and her father were the only permanent men in her life. She never wanted that to change.

The next morning, after Bess and George had been delivered to their homes with long, warm hugs and promises that they would see each other again soon, Nancy gave her horse free rein and closed her blue eyes as the wind whipped her cheeks and the loose strands of her curly golden hair. The rain had passed, leaving the air fresh and clean, and she was on her way home. She didn't care about the mud at the hem of her dress or the windswept tendrils of blonde hair pulling loose from her braid or the callouses on her hands, which sent her personal maid into a despair.

Eldbriar bore little resemblance to her friends' family homes. Perched atop a hill, fortified and built securely from heavy gray stone, Eldbriar looked forbidding to visitors—but to her it was home and always had been. She knew every man, woman, and child who served on its staff and took up arms in its defense. The army's commander had brought her small presents and made her laugh with glee when she was a child, and she personally delivered presents to all the children of the castle's staff during Easter and Christmas. As often as she was away, Nancy knew she would be lost without this to come back to. Her home.

Seeing it, though—she felt travel-weary and worn. Here, she was dutiful, perpetually cheerful granddaughter and daughter, to a pair of thankfully indulgent men. Eldbriar might be familiar, but it also represented a life that, more and more, she doubted was for her. Her father and grandfather were subject to responsibilities and obligations that she wasn't expected to understand or share.

But she had no alternative. She had puzzled it through and had come to the same conclusion a thousand times. Much as she might wish to, she couldn't avoid her fate.

When she saw the gatekeeper's expression, grim and pale, stricken-eyed, she spurred her horse on to the stable and dismounted with unladylike speed, setting off at a run for the house. Her intuitions were almost always true; she prayed that this time would be an exception.

Her father's drawn expression confirmed everything, though, and Nancy thought her heart was turning to stone inside her.

"He's had another attack," he told her, opening his arms to her, and she stepped into his embrace. "Thank God you're here. Thank God."

Nancy closed her eyes, holding her father tight. Her throat was thick with tears over her grandfather's illness, and the now undeniable fact that his health wasn't as reliable as it had been.

But her heart, the heart of a princess and heir to her grandmother's throne, felt solid and almost dead inside her.

\--

"So there is nothing to be done."

Ned's father swirled the amber liquid at the bottom of his glass, given depth and gleam by the firelight. They were seated in the study, and Ned felt the same solid, determined certainty that he did once he had decided on a course of action.

His family's domain was respectable, and his parents and family steward kept all the families who depended on them happy. It was a delicate balance to walk, and Ned had long known it would be his lot in life, to take over for his father once his time had come. He just hadn't expected it to be anytime soon.

It wasn't. But what had happened was worse.

"We cannot refuse it," Ned's father said. "We have no choice. The coffers are empty, the kingdom at risk, and it has passed into our hands. The other heirs in line have died."

"It was rich—"

"It _was._ A few ill-timed skirmishes, an unreasonable ally demanding reinforcements..." His father sighed. "I don't know what there is to be done. To demand more payment from the subjects would only cause more trouble, and you..." He shook his head. "Your shoulders may be broad, son, but not this broad."

"We could form another alliance."

"We could." His father nodded slowly. "But I think you understand where that leaves you."

Ned released a long breath, looking down at his own glass. "A pawn," he said quietly.

"I would not put it quite that way. It isn't so bad. Truly."

Ned ran his fingers through his dark hair, fighting the urge to get up and pace near the fireplace. If he could have, he would have gone immediately to the stables, to saddle his own horse and find some quiet place to think. It was impossible to do so inside, in the close heat of all of it, with their presence near him, and all their expectations and fears. His parents couldn't handle this by themselves. He had to do something.

But this was more than he had ever imagined, even in his most terrible nightmares.

"To marry a woman I've certainly never met. That isn't so bad."

His father pushed himself up and gave him a small smile, clapping him on the shoulder. "When it results in someone like you, no, it isn't. Truly, pick someone who understands and has the same goals, and it won't be so bad."

Ned didn't answer. He only felt bleak despair. "How could it have come to this," he murmured. "I... I need time."

He wished with all his heart that the messenger hadn't found him, that he had moved on, beyond any reach. But this wouldn't have changed, only his knowledge of it, and he was being a petulant child. That was doubtless how his father saw it. He had been allowed to do as he pleased for so long, and to balk at the first restraint and responsibility was less than grateful.

He never wished to marry. His parents had no other children, and he knew who was in line behind them, who would inherit should they be unable. At least his parents were responsible and caring. They had raised him to be the same.

Then why did this feel like a net tightening around him? Why did he feel such certainty that if he didn't extract himself from this snare now, he never would? To be tied by responsibility and honor to a woman he had never met, to have children with her...

It had never made sense to him, and it didn't make sense now. His friends, his sworn brothers, had often told him about women, women who could be cajoled or persuaded to bed, but the act itself sounded coarse and vulgar, and high-born women were considered far, far above it. To expect a woman who had formed what was, after all, just a mutually advantageous alliance with him to join to him that way...

Ned had never been in love. He had never wanted to be. The companionship and friendship he had with the men in his command was more than enough, and their life was everything he had ever wanted. To fall in love was to be vulnerable; to marry was to lose his freedom.

His freedom had been an illusion. All his life had been leading to this.

It made him hurt all the more.

"You have some time," his father said. "I know this is sudden. I know. But we're glad to have you home."

Ned's mother was already dressed for bed, clad in a long warm robe, when he came out of the study and saw her lingering near the door. She didn't even try for an excuse, just gave him a smile, and he came to her with heavy steps he tried to lighten. He had always loved his mother, and over dinner she had been eager to hear about his adventures. She had always supported him.

"Come here, love," she said, and he bent down; she was short, and he could easily have lifted her a foot off the floor with his embrace. He gave her a warm hug, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"I've missed you. And I'm glad you're home. We've been..." She shook her head. "I'm glad you've come back to us."

"To form an alliance, to wed a stranger..." It was still too hot in him, too close to the surface, for him to hold back.

His mother reached up and gently patted his cheek. "Not if you don't wish it," she said. "We'll find another way, somehow."

He knew she told the truth; he was just as sure that there _was_ no other alternative. "And have you some beautiful princess in mind?" he asked her, a sardonic half-smile turning up his lips. "Who will doubtless give me beautiful children?"

She smiled. "Only if that's what you wish, Ned. But I haven't. And we have time."

Just as his father had said. Time that would drain the resources his parents had so carefully set aside for unexpected catastrophe. When he had been a child, adding to their kingdom and the people under their protection had sounded like it could only be positive. He hadn't understood, then, how much time and care it took.

And now they were tied to a destitute kingdom. No one would be foolish enough to take it over for them. It was their problem to deal with, though they had done nothing to deserve it. And in exchange, in this devil's bargain, only some rich princess could save them—and she would doubtless be aware of the embarrassing circumstances, of the desperation, of her own nature. That she would be a pawn too, a piece to move around the board in response to his parents' and her parents' plans.

He tried to imagine what would happen if the circumstances were reversed, and felt only despair. He would have had so much to offer, otherwise. Tying herself to him would mean bringing herself down, unless she was fabulously wealthy, unless she had a reason to be desperate for a spouse herself.

Anyone worthy of the name would never accept his proposal. Any woman who did accept his proposal was a fool.

He gave his mother what he hoped was a convincing smile. "We have time," he agreed. "I love you."

She beamed at him. "I love you too," she said, and hugged him again. "Now get your rest, darling. After sleeping on the ground so long, I'm sure it's wonderful to be in your old bed again."

When he pulled the covers up to his chin, though, he didn't feel grateful. He felt as though he had stepped into a life that no longer belonged to him, ill-fitting and unfamiliar. He wanted to be under the stars, with his friends again.

\--

Nancy stood in the middle of her bedroom, feeling utterly miserable. Her grandfather had just come to see her, and had told her how proud he was of her. She would make a wise, beautiful princess, and an incomparable queen.

Instead of bolting, she had forced a smile, forced it all the way into her eyes, and had somehow managed to keep herself from trembling when she hugged him and assured him that she wouldn't disappoint him.

Bess and George were seated on her bed, watching as the dressmaker scrutinized the silk fabric draped around Nancy. "You're going to look like a dream, Nancy," Bess told her, blue eyes sparkling. "An absolute dream. I can't wait to have my own dress made."

George scoffed. "You have plenty of dresses. The one you wore last year?"

"Is a _year old,_ " Bess retorted. "My seamstress would have to do so much refitting that a new dress would just be easier. And all the _men_..."

George rolled her eyes. "All the _boys_ ," she corrected Bess. "A true man would have his own title and wealth, and wouldn't just flock to a ball in the hopes of meeting a lady-love."

Bess shook her head. "How dare you say that to Nancy?"

George immediately blushed. "I—I," she stammered. "I'm sorry, Nan. I just—"

"I know." Nancy gently pressed her palms against the tightly-laced corset and tried to keep her breaths shallow; it felt ludicrous, to endure such an uncomfortable ritual. "It's all right."

"No, it isn't. I know you're upset, and I hope I didn't make it worse."

Nancy shook her head. Nothing could make this worse. All the eligible men in reasonable distance had been invited to Eldbriar for a week, a week that would involve countless balls and entertainments and outings meant to allow her time to select one. The last night of the party, her grandfather fully expected to host her betrothal ball and celebration. The wedding would follow soon after.

Wedding. Nancy closed her eyes briefly. It would be a wedding in name only, just like her marriage would be more accurately described as a contract between her family and some stranger's. If she let her thoughts dwell on it, she thought she might lose her mind with anxiety and fear.

She had done so much, overcome so much, but this... this was beyond her, and she was heartbroken. She couldn't explain her fear and misgivings to her father or her grandfather; they were proud of her strength and her obedience, and her grandfather wanted to see her settled in an advantageous match before he was so ill that her own father would take the throne. There needed to be heirs. She was expected to—to let a man do _that_ to her. To break her and hurt her. To wear a brave smile throughout.

And he would know what had happened. He would be rough and brutal. She didn't know if her father and grandfather just didn't understand, or if they did—and it didn't matter to them.

She suddenly, painfully, missed her mother. Eight years had passed, but that wound had yet to heal. Bess and George didn't understand; their mothers still lived. Nancy had no one to talk to about this, not really. There was so much she had never been able to say, so much that still terrified her. To be surrounded by men who saw her as nothing more than a trophy or prize to be won—it was terrifying.

Bess and George couldn't do anything to help her, though. She wanted so desperately to beg them to go away with her, anywhere, but she would be disappointing everyone if she did. She couldn't leave. She had no choice.

When she was alone in her bed that night, her face buried against the pillow, Nancy did what she had always tried to do. If she could change little, then she thought about what she _could_ change.

So she had to be married, likely to one of the men who came for the week. She had her choice of the men; of that she had been assured. Their kingdom didn't need to join with a larger one to support itself, but her grandfather needed heirs. The only qualification was to find a man who was wise and caring, and willing to learn.

_A handsome man will be conceited and care only for himself,_ she decided, clenching her right hand into a fist. _A short man will need to prove his manliness and will hurt others in the process. A man obsessed with the opinion of his peers will act only to please them._

So. A tall, ugly, mature man. One who saw their relationship as a business alliance, nothing more—and who would only briefly share the marriage bed with her. So it was an act she would have to endure, but maybe it wouldn't be for so long. An older man who fathered two sons with her and made a good king, who was indulgent when it came to her and their children.

She would never be free again.

Nancy's face crumpled, and she tried as hard as she could, but she couldn't stop herself from crying. She wished that her grandfather wasn't sick, that he would never die, that her father never would either.

But her mother, the center of her world, had died. She had been given a gift, and she had let herself imagine it might be permanent, but it had been a dream of youth, and now it was gone.

Her life was no longer her own. She would become a—a _wife._ A princess, then a queen, the mother of princes or princesses. And she would give them their freedom. Oh, with the last beat of her heart, she would.

She had a little time left, but it was dwindling, faster and faster.

\--

At first, Ned was able to imagine it might be like an adventure.

He was allowed to bring his servants, of course, but his friends weren't that; Mike was eligible for consideration, if only barely so, and Burt and Dave were along for the adventure of it, joking with Ned that they would handily catch the eye of the princess-in-waiting and steal her away before she even had a chance to see him.

Despite everything else, Ned wanted that. He didn't want it to all end this way, during a week-long house party meant to auction off the princess to the highest bidder. He wouldn't be the highest bidder; of that, he had no doubt. His kingdom's situation was dire, and his parents' desperation was growing—and yet he still couldn't resign himself to the idea. If only one of his brothers in arms had been willing to form an alliance with his kingdom... but none of them had the holdings or the sway to fill their need.

There would be other, more desperate princesses—but this one had the kingdom and the influence to solve their problems. It wasn't worth his worrying about. It would happen or it wouldn't. She would pick an eligible suitor and Ned would take a day or two to spend time with his friends and pretend that his family wasn't depending on him to make it through the next six months. Somehow.

His mother had supervised the packing of his luggage, and she had been doubly sure to include the military uniform that made him look very regal and imposing. They hadn't been able to accompany him, but they would make the trip for a wedding, to meet the woman who would save all their lives.

He had tried not to think of it that way. He still didn't want to think of it that way.

Eldbriar Castle. It was an imposing gray stone compound on a hill, and Ned spotted two carriages ahead of them. His parents had offered their carriage, but it was behind them, hauling their luggage. Burt, Dave, Mike, and Ned were on horseback, and Ned felt almost defiant over their dusty, travel-worn appearance, knowing that many gilded dandies had likely arrived ahead of them.

_It doesn't matter. No matter what, I can't compete with these other men. I'll enjoy the hospitality and my friends' amusement, and then we'll have some time to ourselves. That's all._

_With all this at her disposal, she's likely a spoiled, coddled fainting flower, anyway. She would see my family's problems as beneath her notice. And I wouldn't want her pity, regardless._

There would come a time, Ned knew, when motivation wouldn't matter anymore, that desperation would determine all his choices. He was determined that it wouldn't be now. Not yet. Not so soon.

And, he considered with some idle amusement, if the princess proved a good match for Mike, then his best friend could provide him with the strong alliance his family needed. It would be perfect. Mike could prove all his boasting true, make a brilliant match in the process, and trade his freedom for Ned's.

It was so perfect that it almost hurt. He tuned back into his friends' conversation with a little shake of his head. He couldn't leave that responsibility in his friend's hands, or ask him to sacrifice so much. It was an idle, selfish dream, one he wouldn't indulge.

The castle complex was sprawling and more than impressive, and Burt and Dave commented with their usual understated awe that it wouldn't be so bad, as a minor summer home. The family's colors were displayed on pennants at the tops of tall, fortified turrets, and at the other side of the hill, Ned saw the stunning view of the sea. He hadn't seen the sea until he had left home, and every time, it took his breath away. It promised excitement and adventure. It promised people and experiences he had never dreamed or imagined. As soon as he set eyes on it, he decided he would at least dip his fingers in it before leaving. That, at least, was a goal he could meet.

Once the butler confirmed that they had been invited—anyone attempting to crash the gathering would have a hard time—they were shown to their rooms, and Ned felt another stab of envy. If his family only had this, such opulent wealth and consequence, his parents wouldn't be in such danger. But, just like his parents, the king of this kingdom had come to it by the happenstance of blood; fate had smiled on them, and while Ned had worked hard in his life, he had always had the cushion of his family's status to support him.

"I could get used to this," Burt commented with a grin, falling backward onto a bed spread with gold-embroidered red silk. "What do you say, Ned? Mind if I pretend I'm you for a few days? Try my hand at this princess-catching business?"

Ned shrugged. "You're more than welcome," he said. "Mike especially, after all the stories he's told. Think you can win the fair lady's heart?"

"For a chance at all this? Oh..." Mike shrugged, tugging his dusty shirt over his head. "That view's not so bad. I promise to invite you three bums over sometimes. Shake you up a bit."

Ned saved his military uniform for another occasion; he went down to dinner that first night in a dark-blue coat and trousers, and a snow-white shirt. Mike, Ned noticed, cut a more impressive figure in his midnight-black coat and trousers. Maybe he had no chance at winning a stranger's eye and interest, maybe his entire being quailed at the thought, but he had a little pride in himself, and he felt it fade beside Mike.

It was no matter. Tonight, once the castle had gone quiet for the night, he would go to the sea and let himself dream again, before he made his own heart stop in his chest. Before he gave himself over to what he needed to do.

For some reason he had imagined that she would be the only woman in attendance, but he realized that she would likely have a mother, other relatives, perhaps sisters. She was a princess in waiting; there would be a queen, a dowager.

But other young ladies were in attendance; not so many that the men were equally matched, but a half-dozen or so were seated at the table, bedecked in pearls and glittering jewels, eyes bright with excitement. And the other men... Ned's attire was simple, well-tailored and made, but he was surrounded by men glittering with embroidery, wearing powdered wigs and rich satins. He felt like he could so easily fade into the background here, and it was just what he wanted. It was.

He would meet her, and he would be glad to have the fewest prospects, the most modest outfit, his mind and his heart already far away. He would be glad that she would be someone else's trophy, someone else's wife.

Two young ladies, attired in rich lace-trimmed silk, had glossy dark hair and long-lashed sparkling eyes, hanging onto every word in the conversations with the men around them. Three were blonde, one in blush-pink idly waving a lace fan with every appearance of ennui, one in an icy aqua-blue whose gaze stayed mostly on the table in front of her, and one in modest unblemished white. One had fire-red hair and immediately attracted Mike's attention, with a ribald comment spoken just loud enough for Ned to hear. The seventh had light-brown hair and sweet eyes, and seemed younger than the rest.

None looked old enough to be the dowager, or even the queen. One of them had to be the princess in waiting, but Ned didn't know which one. He guessed that the blonde in pink, the one who seemed utterly bored with it all, was the woman in question. Of course she would be bored; her entire life, she had likely been the subject of male attention, and it was as comfortable to her as breathing.

How familiar this must be to her—and how it made his skin prickle, his heart sick. It had always been mysterious to him, this dance. As soon as he had been of age, he had been on horseback, seeking adventure, and that hadn't involved women. This was all so strange to him. So many of the other men around him looked completely at ease. To them, this was just another night. Another kind of adventure.

To Mike, to Burt and Dave, that was what this was, but Ned couldn't see it that way. Maybe it was his desperation; maybe it was the stakes involved. He had never backed down in front of anything before, but Ned would gladly have led a charge, ten men against a hundred, rather than sit down to dinner with this company.

\--

Nancy couldn't seem to raise her head. She knew she needed to, that this was the last time she would likely be anonymous and able to see men who weren't posturing for her. She had called in reinforcements, Bess and George and Helen and other ladies she knew, ladies she had helped in the past few years.

She still felt paralyzed. It was all moving too fast. She had dreaded this day, this week, as long as she had known about it, and now it had arrived. She was expected to pick an acceptable candidate from the men at this table.

She wanted to die. And then she remembered with a guilty twinge that her grandfather had suffered another attack three days earlier, that it would ease him to know his line was assured and his kingdom in good hands.

But how could it be? All around her she saw only hunger and greed. She saw lean faces and glittering eyes, florid cheeks and knowing grins, and she shivered. Bess had lightheartedly offered to impersonate her, at least for a little while; she saw it all as fun, but for her it was. It would be flirtation and enjoying being a princess for a little while. And then, at the end of the week, one of them...

It was too much. She had to concentrate very, very hard to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes. The man to her right was ignoring her, after she had ignored him for a few minutes. The man to her left needed little encouragement to continue his supremely tedious story.

She wanted to rip her dress off; she wanted to go further, to rip her skin away, to free her fluttering heart from the cage of her ribs, to be undone. She had found no respite from the guilt and the obligation pressing in on her. It felt like she never would. That tonight was the last night of freedom she might have, as weak as it might be.

She had to force each bite of her food down; she had no appetite for it. The wine was plentiful, though, and she drank every glass of it set in front of her. Bess and George were staying with her tonight, and though they didn't understand everything she was going through, at least she was able to share with them. At least they cared.

Her father and grandfather cared too. But it was out of their hands. It was all out of their hands.

Her father welcomed the guests and announced that a casual demonstration of strength and skill would be held in the castle courtyard the following day, and that the princess would grant each potential suitor an individual audience before the evening meal.

It felt as though her soul left her body at that point, as though every eye in the entire room settled on her, though a quick glance told her that wasn't true. She was invisible to them, just as she had wanted to be. She wasn't the most beautiful girl in the room, the most vivacious, and a part of her hoped that she would pale in comparison to Emily's fiery-red hair, or Helen's sweet demeanor. Bess had relished the opportunity to meet so many gorgeous, eligible men, but Nancy couldn't bring herself to hope her friend found a husband here tonight. These men didn't know her; they knew only that she was wealthy, and marrying her would increase both influence and status. That was all.

None of them would know _her._ She didn't want them to.

As soon as the men had begun to retire to the gaming room following dinner for smoking and drinks and cards, as soon as the plates were cleared, Nancy stood and took a deep breath. For tonight, she was just a lady. Tomorrow... the noose would tighten. Her throat even felt like it was closing.

She didn't know where Bess and George were, and she didn't care. She knew all the passages of the castle, and after she had changed her confining evening gown for an old cotton day dress, she slipped out. The moon was full, cut chips of brilliance floating in the water below, and she silenced a guard's comment when it was still a bare murmur in his throat, with a flick of her fingers. They all knew her, and they knew better than to question her. She had repaid their discretion and help several times over, through gifts to them and their families.

The path down to the water required concentration. It was the most direct route, but her ancestors had made it intentionally hard to find handholds and footholds, and her path was visible from the vantage point of the watchman in the tallest turret. Few places in the entire castle complex were free from observation; she had even found a secret passage allowing visual access to her own rooms, though the thick coating of dust told her it had been unused for a long, long time, possibly since before she was born.

It was one of the many reasons that she wished with all her heart that she could leave, but she knew that she never would, that she never could now. Maybe her father and her grandfather would find all the men they had invited to be inferior, unworthy of her hand and the kingdom...

Her face was wet with tears when she took the last step down and felt rock beneath her feet. Every time she cried, every time she had cried in the past few weeks, she had told herself it was the last time, that she wouldn't indulge in self-pity anymore. Every time she thought she had no more tears to shed, she found she was wrong.

She took her shoes off despite the chill and felt the sand beneath the soles of her feet, her arms wrapped around her as she walked out toward the water. Her hair was unpinned and the wind whipped it over her shoulders, against her cheeks, leaving fine strands clinging to her wet skin.

What scared her was the darkness inside her, a darkness she had believed was finally behind her. She would lose herself if she let this happen to her. But she was in a corner, and she could see no way out.

No way save one.

She was sitting at the edge of the water, her arms wrapped around her bent legs, wishing herself beyond that distant obscured horizon, when she heard a brief clattering of stones behind her.

She sniffled, wiping her wet cheeks, her heart falling. So it had already begun, and she would have no peace. One of her more zealous suitors had even followed her here.

"Oh, I—I'm sorry, miss. I didn't know anyone else was down here."

She swallowed, hoping her voice would sound normal when she spoke. Maybe she really hadn't been recognized. She heard another clattering, and when she glanced back, she saw that he was attempting to ascend again, but he had to be tired. The descent was tedious. "Give me a moment," she said, her voice faintly weary. "There's a longer way, but the path is easier."

He made a quiet sound of acknowledgement, and she could feel the skin on her back crawling as she fought the urge to look back at him. She was too vulnerable here; she could raise an alarm, but it would take the guards some time to clamber down the cliff face. The stranger didn't touch her, though. He took a few cautious steps and sat down five feet away from her, gazing out at the sea.

"So you've been here before." The way he said it was awkward and stilted. He didn't have that assured, silky tone to his voice that so many of the other visitors used, the one she assumed was meant to be seductive but left her alarmed and upset instead.

Despite herself, she smiled, not looking at him. "Many times."

"Are you—so you know the princess?"

The princess. Her mother had been the princess. She had been gracious and poised and perfect. Nancy felt like none of those things. She propped her chin on her knee and made a quiet sound.

The stranger sighed quietly. She couldn't see much about him, but his clothes were modest, not the structured ostentatious evening wear that many of her potential suitors had been wearing. He could be no one else, though. She knew everyone else.

"So you're here to offer your hand."

The stranger made an impolite sound that was almost a snort. "As poor as it might be."

"Oh?"

When she glanced over, his stance matched hers, and she was left with the impression that he might feel just as lost as she did. She had never stopped to consider it. She had been sure that all the men in attendance would be smooth, overconfident fortune hunters. No feelings or empathy. No one who could possibly earn her respect.

"I don't have a chance. And maybe that's—that's good." He sighed.

Her stomach filled with ice water as she considered that maybe he was just smarter than the rest; maybe he was pretending not to know who she was, to get past her defenses. Maybe he thought that he could compromise her virtue out here, and give himself an edge. If she needed to, she could use one of the larger rocks near the cliff face to defend herself. "Why wouldn't you have a chance? With me?" she added, once she had the nerve to say it.

"Oh." He immediately began to stammer, and she heard stones rattle as he scrambled to his feet. "Ma'am—miss. My lady. I..."

"You truly didn't know who I am?"

He shook his head as she stood and shook out her cotton dress. It took a long time for him to speak again, and he kept his gaze down—much as she had during dinner. "No, my lady. I swear it."

She had spent the entire night trying to avoid the gazes of the other men. For some reason, his behavior now irritated her. "You may look me in the face without turning to stone," she told him. "That's not why they're marrying me off."

The bitterness in her tone surprised even her, and the stranger brought his chin up, and his dark-eyed gaze rested on her face for a moment. He was clearly uncomfortable, far from the assured flirt she had expected, but in that moment she felt as though the earth trembled under her. She had never felt anything like it. Even once he glanced away again, she still felt shaken.

"I had mistaken one of the other ladies for you. I apologize—I beg your forgiveness."

Despite herself, she sniffled and smiled, only faintly. "You need not stand on ceremony with me."

He shook his head. "Forgive me," he said, but that was all. His head was down, but in that glimpse of his face—she didn't know what had happened, but she wanted to look into his eyes again, and when he looked up at her again, all her breath seemed to leave her. "I—have little experience. Talking to women, I mean. Especially..."

She read his little shrug and took a step toward him. "You've intrigued me," she told him. "Why do you think yourself any less eligible than the rest of the visitors?"

He smiled faintly, sardonically, and ran his hand through his dark hair. "Once I tell you, you can put an end to all this, and I'll be on my way," he told her. "A fair trade."

She shrugged, taking a step toward him. She was being rash, incautious—but if he was acting, she had never met a man who could do it so well. He radiated sincerity, despite his clear nervousness.

"May I ask a favor first, my lady?"

"You may." She had never been fond of the almost haughty tone that society dictated she take with those beneath her social standing, but it was terribly easy to fall back into those patterns.

"I came down to dip my fingers in the sea."

The simplicity of it made her smile. "It is too rocky here. Follow me."

The small spit of sand, covered at high tide, was beyond a path of irregular stones, and she walked it barefoot, with him walking behind. She knew she should feel afraid, and in the back of her mind she knew she might have misjudged him and his intentions, but it was hard for her to see him as a threat. Long experience had taught her that could be a fatal mistake.

But the wonder on his face when he kneeled down and let the tide wash over his bare fingers... She dug her bare toes into the wet sand and then walked out until the water was just lapping cold over her feet to wash it away. She knew a rock that allowed a decent perch, but only had enough space for one of them at a time.

"I've granted your favor," she murmured after a moment. "Your turn."

He sighed and stood, his fingertips still wet. "It's a long and tiresome story," he said. "My parents are responsible for a modest domain to the west; they have always been fair and kind to their subjects. The only royal blood they could claim is through a distant relation—and through that claim, a kingdom passed to them, one made destitute thanks to rash allies and irresponsible decisions. Their inheritance will bankrupt them—bankrupt _us_ —in a period of months. Our only hope is an advantageous alliance."

"And you the means by which that alliance might be achieved."

He inclined his head. That faint, humorless smile was back on his lips. "So, you see, princess, I have very little to offer. The invitation was very gracious, and appreciated. Thank you for your indulgence."

She nodded slowly. "Thank you for your candor."

"I won't waste any more of your time."

During their trip back up to the castle, they used their energy for the climb instead of speaking, but Nancy couldn't stop thinking about the man following her. He had seemed to relax a bit around her, to speak to her as a normal person; she often presented herself in various guises while investigating mysteries, to gain confidence and trust, but on occasion she had revealed her identity to criminals who might otherwise escape punishment. She had, once—

But she didn't let herself think about that. The man had drawn her out of her pity and frustration, and she suppose she owed him her thanks. But if he had told the truth, she wouldn't see him again.

At the top of the cliff face, she was panting a little for breath, but he showed little sign of exertion, and she felt her grudging admiration of him rise a notch. Bess had declared that particular journey beyond her a long time ago, and George could scramble over rocks like a goat native to it. She had just turned to him to speak when he bowed preemptively.

"I beg your pardon for intruding on your—on you, and thank you... for... for everything." So that temporary ease between them had faded; his dark eyes were anxious as they flicked up to her own. "By your leave, my lady."

She didn't know what she had wanted to say, only that she hadn't wanted this to end so abruptly, and she had no real reason to keep him, especially not when he was so ill at ease. "You are dismissed, my lord," she told him with a little nod, but a small smile curved up her lips.

After another hasty bow, he was striding purposefully toward the fortified castle walls, and she let him go, knowing he would find it more awkward were she to follow him. She still had the morning and the rest of the week to face, but that knowledge wasn't pressing on her the way it had been.

The night had swallowed her view of him, leaving her alone on the path, when she realized that she didn't even know his name.

\--

By the time Ned had returned to his room that night, it had been too late to make plans to depart, and his friends were up late, carousing and making new acquaintances. He hadn't had the heart to cut the trip short—or to tell them what had happened during his time away from them. He felt calm, if a little shaky. It was done, and he thought she would be discreet and keep what she had been told between them. If she had given orders that he and his friends should leave, he would obey them immediately.

In the morning he put on his military uniform, polished and shined and pressed, and made sure his appearance was spotless, clean-shaven, not a hair out of place. Mike followed Ned's example, but Burt and Dave were expecting something more akin to a day of fun at a country town festival than a true display of any physical prowess, and dressed more casually.

Everyone else had dressed to impress and awe the night before. His military uniform betrayed his family's background, marked him as a man not born to privilege and ease. The other men who had come to compete for her hand might have training provided by well-paid tutors or neighborhood boys, but he didn't expect much.

The archery targets set up near the castle wall weren't unexpected, but their form was: roughly human-shaped mannequins of straw wearing hats, flags dangling from glove-hands, red paper hearts pinned in place. He saw knotted ropes hanging from the top of the castle wall, other tests of skill and strength, obstacle courses and mental puzzles.

A sheltered dais held three thrones: one for the king, one for the prince, one for the prince's daughter. She no longer wore the icy aqua blue gown from the night before. She wore a long-sleeved gown in dark green trimmed in lace, her golden hair neatly braided and pinned, a small circlet of gold on the crown of her head, her hands folded and resting neatly on her lap. She looked placid and polite, but her gaze was distant.

He had been wrong about her. Last night, when he had accidentally interrupted her, her face had been shining with tears, her demeanor sad. The only time Ned saw a genuine smile on her face was when her father leaned over to murmur something in her ear, and she glanced over at him and her grandfather with tenderness and adoration in her eyes.

So she felt the same way he did, about his own parents. The king was a tall, broad-shouldered man, but his face was pale, and he kept a handkerchief clutched in one hand. He was growing old, suffering from illness.

And she was the heir, the pawn. The instrument for an advantageous alliance. He needed a rich wife. She needed a husband.

It didn't change anything, Ned told himself. Truly, it didn't. She could make a much more advantageous match with many of the other men.

Over the course of the day's challenges and games, Ned excelled and had a slight edge over Mike, but another dark-haired man proved himself just as worthy. The other suitors lingered on the dais during introductions, ingratiating themselves with the king and the prince, posturing for the presumptive princess. Ned heard several comment that the king shouldn't be concerned with archery or rope climbing, when the real test would be how many heirs a suitor could sire on the presumptive princess. She looked sweet and innocent, biddable and quiet, and men who, Ned sensed, preferred the company of other men over the prospect of the marriage bed, would endure that trial for the riches they would earn by winning her hand.

Ned didn't fear that the way they did. He just didn't understand it. He could wrestle and compete and playfully struggle with other men all day long, but a woman—to invade her in such an intimate way, he couldn't. The only women he had ever known were his mother and his grandmothers, and he had been introduced to soldiers' sisters. The princess, like them, was meant to be defended and protected. Even their brief conversation the night before was more connection than he had ever expected.

In that strange anxious time when he had been trying to will himself to sleep, he had puzzled over her. She had been shy and retiring at dinner, fading into the background; she had been bold and courageous enough to climb down a cliff face that would have thwarted an incautious man. She had surrounded herself with women who shone brilliantly, who displayed their advantages to perfection; she had been beautiful and wild and perfect, barefoot on the wet sand with moonlight in her eyes, like she belonged nowhere else. She had commented the night before that they were _marrying her off_ , but she looked at her grandfather and father with affection and love in her gaze.

Ned loved his parents. That didn't mean he was happy with the situation.

The other dark-haired man who had performed well approached the dais for his introduction, and Ned was near enough to hear the herald call his name. "Sir Franklin Hardy of Baysport, your majesties."

The other man seemed personable and charming, but as soon as Ned saw Hardy bend over the princess's hand and press his lips against it, then gaze into her beautiful blue eyes, he felt a terrible, undeniable bolt of both jealousy and envy. Ned's tongue was tied around her; he didn't have the charm or ease the other man had. And if she settled on Hardy, he would be the one sharing her bed. What if he treated her roughly? What if he never took the time to find her when she was crying by the sea...

"She is beautiful, isn't she," Mike commented, and Ned shook himself a little, focusing on his friend again. "I wouldn't have picked her last night, but there's just something about her, isn't there. Very—sweet."

She hadn't been surrounded by admirers and suitors last night, but now that everyone knew who she was, suddenly she was desirable. The crown on her head had done it. They didn't care about _her_ , only what she represented.

And she knew that; she had to understand it, despite her gracious smiles, her patience as they began the elaborate dance of a vague courtship. She was a prize to be won. To be _married off._

And he didn't have a chance. Not once her guardians discovered his family's situation, and not with her, after his tongue-tied, stammering performance the night before.

Mike's performance earned him an introduction, and as Ned waited his turn, his anxiety only grew. He didn't need to impress her, he told himself, trying to calm down. They had already met, and whatever opinion of him she had already formed, he was unlikely to change.

But his heart was in his throat when he was summoned to the dais. The king's energy was clearly flagging, and Ned thanked him for his invitation and for his hospitality. He expressed the same to the prince.

And then he was standing in front of her. The princess, whom he had told the night before that they were unlikely to meet again.

"Prince Carson's only daughter, Nancy Catherine."

"My lady," Ned murmured, with a deep bow; when he stood again, her eyes were sparkling, and she extended her hand. He held it gently and brushed his lips against her knuckles. "You... are truly beautiful. Your dress is beautiful."

He knew it was inadequate even as he heard himself speak the words, but she smiled anyway, unfailingly polite. "Thank you," she told him. "I am pleased that we could offer you our hospitality. Regrettably, all my dances for tonight have been claimed, but I may offer you the opening set at tomorrow's ball, or the supper dance. Or both."

It would keep him at Eldbriar another day, and lend some faint credence to his claim that he had tried. But he would be required to see her dance with someone else. Many other men, who would outshine him in every possible way.

She was being a gracious hostess, and the supper dance would mean a seat beside her for an hour, an hour during which he was expected to engage in flirtatious conversation. A waking nightmare that would leave her more sure than ever that he was an ineligible candidate.

"Both would be—incredible, if you please, my lady."

She nodded and he released her hand, fighting the urge to scrub his damp palm on his trousers, the warmth of her skin against his still lingering. He nodded to the three of them, and he didn't feel any of the steps back to the ground.

The dance that night was torture. Mike, Burt, and Dave, once they had introduced themselves to the few other female guests and discovered that their dance cards were full until the following evening, retired to the game room and invited Ned to join him. Other frustrated suitors were clustered at the edge of the ballroom, out in the courtyard, plotting their next moves.

Ned didn't bother. When he looked at her, it seemed that all the light in the room didn't just linger on her; it was as though it shone through her, like she was incandescent, pure and beautiful. The sight of another man's hand on her creamy skin, another man's lips nearly brushing the cup of her ear, made Ned's blood boil. They weren't fit to touch the hem of her gown, and yet her father watched indulgently from the platform near the musicians' alcove. Someone needed to step in and keep her safe. And if he found her at the base of the cliffs crying again tonight...

But, under his watchful gaze, she took steps back when her partners pressed in, apparently sending them on errands for fresh handkerchiefs or cool glasses of punch when they ignored her signals. Once, he thought he saw fear in her eyes, and he was halfway across the dance floor before he realized it. He couldn't have cared less whether it was a breach of protocol or societal rules. If she was offended or dismayed, then the man responsible would pay, on Ned's honor.

The crisis passed; her partner for the set broke away with poor grace on some errand, and Nancy's eyes met Ned's.

Nancy. It fit her. Smooth and graceful. She was more, so much more than she was showing them, and she had given him the chance to share two dances with her instead of telling him that she had no time for him.

He didn't understand it. He only understood that when he looked into her eyes, he couldn't leave, not yet. If one of these men proved worthy, if he knew she would be happy, then he could leave.

If he knew that she would be happy.

\--

The opening set. She would be dancing the opening set with him.

Nancy selected one of her new gowns, made of sapphire-blue silk. The dress came to a point at her cleavage, dipping down without leaving her breasts too exposed, but no froth of lace had been sewn there to preserve her modesty. When Nancy saw her reflection, she saw a woman she didn't know, a woman who was beautiful and mature and happy.

And she was all those things, at least for tonight. She would be dancing the opening set with him, in just a short time.

It had been all she could do the night before to stay in her room instead of sneaking back to the cliff, just in case he did the same. It had been all she could to get through the rest of the day's events, the picnic lunch and musical entertainment, the challenge among her suitors to see who could compose the best sonnet on her beauty, poise, and grace. Baron Lockridge, Edmund, hadn't participated in the poetry contest.

Edmund. His name was Edmund, and he hadn't departed after their introduction.

He lacked the easy, too-smooth charm of her other suitors. He was watchful instead of doing all he could to appear bored and unimpressed. He took too long to figure out what he wanted to say to her. He was tall and broad-shouldered and his physical prowess had been hard-won, not taught by a hired instructor in some safe nursery. He was unworthy of her. He was wasting her time by distracting her from other, more acceptable suitors.

But when she was with him, the too-rapid dwindling of her freedom slowed for a moment or two.

Because she had known how important the week was to her father and grandfather, Nancy had done her best to concentrate and focus on the many men who had been invited to attend and court her. Sir Franklin had been an early favorite, with the king and Nancy's father. Nancy's father had apparently been acquainted with his father when they were younger.

But each of them, she found wanting, and maybe she would find Edmund wanting now. They were too smooth, too assured, too—everything, and she felt that they saw her as unimportant. She was a figure and a means to an end. With many of them, including Frank, as he had asked her to call him—she had sensed that he was waiting for her to stop talking so that he could continue his own story. He had regaled her with tales of adventures over supper the night before, and though she had burned with envy, several times he had stopped himself and mentioned that he didn't wish to upset her or tell her the less delicate details. But that was all she wanted. She would gladly have traded a life of sedate, polite conversation for the adventures he told her about.

She was destined for disappointment, the culmination being her betrothal and the ball to celebrate it, preparations for a life that held little appeal for her. None of the men matched the brief checklist she had made for herself before the week began. No mature, older, competent but not smug, paternal without overt interest—

She wanted to replace her father's presence in her life with another father. One who would never share her bed or restrict her life. One who would rule the kingdom with the same kind, strong hand. She would gladly open the castle's doors to impoverished children, and select one of them to become prince or princess after her. No one need touch her ever again.

It was a foolish, childish fantasy. She had long thought herself mature and strong, but this was the true test of maturity and adulthood, in her father's eyes anyway, and she was failing it. It was the first time she had ever felt like she was disappointing him. The longer she wore her brave face and worked hard at doing everything she thought he wanted, the less she felt like herself.

But maybe some part of her would have to be sacrificed to this. Just not yet. Please, just not yet.

She walked into the ballroom and immediately, her heart in her throat, she saw Edmund. It was as though all the light in the room rested on him. He looked incredibly handsome in his black coat and trousers, his white shirt, his polished boots. The men around him were embellished and embroidered; he wore none of it, and looked all the better for it.

He was also ill at ease, she saw. Then his gaze rested on her, and her heart skipped a beat. Her awareness of him was so total and so keen that it was almost painful, and it left her feeling off-balance. It was as though the center of her universe, however brief, had become him.

The musicians were tuning their instruments. All around them was candlelight and warmth, and beneath her feet the polished, ancient floor she had used as her playroom when she was a child. When they had been younger, Bess had twirled her steps across the ballroom floor, giggling and imagining that she was in the arms of a handsome, charming man.

Bess and George were here tonight, perfect dancing slippers and sweeping hems covering that familiar floor as they and the other ladies she had invited to the week-long house party circulated among the men. She had dreaded this the night before; she had forced a smile until her cheeks hurt, and when the last dance of the evening had been announced, she had been relieved but bone-weary from the effort of keeping up a brave face.

And even once the opening set was over, she would have another with him.

Maybe he would be different. With him around to relieve the tedium, maybe the rest of this terrible week wouldn't be quite so bad. Maybe.

Edmund flashed a brief, nervous smile at her when she walked over to him, when the couples were just beginning to move into place for the first dance. "Thank you for indulging me, Baron Lockridge," she murmured, gazing up into his dark eyes.

"You have indulged _me_ , my lady. Please, call me Ned. The title... feels like it belongs to someone else."

"Ned." He smiled a little, at the sound of his name on her lips. "Doubtless what your friends call you."

He nodded, and moved in front of her, one hand resting at her waist, the fingers of his other hand laced through hers. "I apologize for the utter spectacle I'm about to make of myself. Feel free to have me executed at sunrise for my clumsiness."

Her eyebrows rose slightly. So he had a sense of humor. "I'll keep that in mind," she said, matching his serious demeanor. "I am rather partial to these slippers, though. I'll try to keep them out of your way."

His gaze flicked down, then rose to her mouth; he was a little flushed when their gazes met again. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

She shook her head. "And you look quite handsome, Edmund. Ned."

He smiled again. "My lady."

The first dance was an easy one, and she didn't interrupt it with a sudden impassioned request for a glass of lemonade or a feigned coughing spell. He maintained a modest distance between them; he didn't draw her too close or press himself against her. She could feel some dampness on his palm and could see how he was concentrating to make sure his steps were right, and it charmed her. They commented to each other on the beauty of the room and the music, but he was distracted, too distracted to hold a conversation.

So she gazed up into his face and relaxed. A small smile remained on her lips, but she rested her polite mask and just let herself breathe. To endure more days of this... of forcing herself to entertain these men, who couldn't care less about her.

"So it shall be at midnight instead?" he said, and it took her a few seconds to understand him, she was so lost in her own thoughts. "My impending death for my abysmal performance."

She chuckled, despite herself. "I may grant you a reprieve, if you redeem yourself during our next dance."

"Little hope for that. It's been too long. And I'm too nervous around you to not make a fool of myself."

"Nervous?"

He nodded. She noticed that while his gaze occasionally rested on her eyes, he more often gazed at her temple or her lips. Men who were trying to hide something didn't like to make eye contact. "I've never known anyone like you."

"No other princesses to compete with, then."

That earned a direct glance. "Definitely not. But no women as fascinating as you."

"You said you haven't spoken to many women."

He shook his head, agreeing with her. "As terrible a mess as I've made of it, I am honored to be your partner," he said. "In—in this dance."

She gave him a reassuring smile, although her heart sank a little with the slowing tempo of the music. "Thank you, Ned. I'll see you again soon."

He bowed to her once he released her, and she could still feel the warmth of his hands against her skin. It had taken her so long to overcome her revulsion at the touch of a man's hands, and even now, this was the first time one of her suitors had touched her that hadn't left her uncomfortable.

"Thank you for your kindness. Nancy."

\--

He was marginally more relaxed during the supper dance, even though he knew that any gaffe might make her suddenly realize a prior commitment and tell him that his presence wouldn't be required. And being seated beside her for all of the meal, making conversation—that thought was terrifying. He couldn't entertain a bright, witty princess for an hour. Not when he felt like his skin was a size too small and his heart wouldn't stop pounding.

But when he sat down beside her on the dais, his chair beside her throne and the two of them set apart from the other guests, his plate full of rich, succulent food he knew he wouldn't taste, he could feel something from her, something he barely let himself believe. She wasn't just being polite. She was genuinely interested in him. And if she was, he couldn't help thinking, her other prospective suitors must be poor indeed.

"Tell me about yourself," he said quietly. "Tell me about your dreams, Nancy."

She glanced down, then back up, into his eyes. The blue of her dress was the same blue of her eyes, and she looked more than beautiful. She was too perfect to touch, and he had no idea how to behave with her or around her. It was easier to treat her the way he would a man, the way he would one of his closest friends, though she was definitely neither.

He'd always been a good listener, though. Once he had stopped feeling quite so anxious around her and babbling whatever was in his mind, anyway.

Her smile was a little bittersweet. "I hate to admit it, but in all my dreams I never imagined this. But it has brought me to this time and this place and this company, so I could truly say it is beyond my wildest dreams."

And then, cautiously, she told him about her adventures, sneaking glances at him to see whether he approved or didn't. He saw her again the way he had on the beach, a strong, lovely, lost girl who could defend herself and didn't need his help. Truly, she didn't. If she chose, she could be miles away by morning, and from the stories she told, he thought that she could make her own life very easily.

But she wouldn't. Not with her grandfather's and her father's expectations weighing on her.

He listened to her. He listened and responded, generally wordlessly, to everything she said, gazing into her dark blue eyes, and when their supper was over and the dance was about to resume, she dismissed her next suitor's expectant approach with a flick of her fingers and kept talking to him. He listened as it poured out of her, her fear, her dreams, as though she had only been waiting for the right person to listen.

"I've only recently thought," she told him, her chin propped on her hand, "that—after, I would want to open the castle to children, to orphans without families to care for them, and give them love and shelter and a home. Maybe no one would understand that."

"But you remember how it was, to feel alone," he murmured.

She nodded, and gave him a small smile. "Silly, isn't it."

He shook his head, and gently touched her hand. "I think it's wonderful," he told her. "And that even if no one else understood, the children who have the benefit of your love would more than make up for it."

Her smile became genuine. "Will you stay?" she asked. "Stay for the rest of the week. I know you had mentioned leaving early, returning home, but I don't know that I could bear this without you. Please, stay."

"All the way to the end? To the grand ball?" To the night of her betrothal, he didn't quite say.

She nodded. "Will you make me beg?" she murmured, searching his eyes.

He briefly stroked his thumb over her knuckle; then he realized what he was doing and self-consciously stopped. "Never, my lady. Yes, I'll stay. For you."

"And share the supper dances with me each night? I know it's tedious..."

"As you wish." His voice was lower. He had never spoken to anyone else this way; he had never felt this way, not when he had looked into anyone else's eyes.

"The tedium of the suppers?"

Her smile was teasing, and he smiled at her too. "At least when we're seated like this, I can't destroy your beautiful slippers. Or make quite so much of a fool of myself."

"So it's perfect, then." Both of them were dismayed when they realized that the song was drawing to a close, that it would be in poor form for her to dismiss another partner.

"Could you make me a promise, though, my lady?"

She gazed steadily back at him.

"If you care to take another moonlight walk by the sea, to let me escort you?"

She nodded. "I would never dream of sharing it with anyone else."

\--

Her grandfather was seated at the table when Nancy walked in for breakfast. She managed to hide her surprise, limiting it to just the widening of her eyes. Usually he had his breakfast in bed, and rose only when it was absolutely necessary, to limit the strain. Nancy's father was seated beside him, and he rose with a smile to pull out her chair.

"Good morning."

"Good morning," Nancy said, glancing between them as she put her plate down. She had been expecting this, on some level; it was Friday morning, after all. The time she had to make a decision, or to have one made for her, was dwindling. The presumed betrothal ball was scheduled for Saturday night, and the other guests' departure for Sunday morning.

"I believe you've met all the guests," Nancy's grandfather said, and smiled at her. "Do you have a favorite? Many of them seem quite worthy."

"Sir Franklin especially," Nancy's father added, before she could answer. "He's grown into a fine young man since I saw him last, and his lineage is impeccable, beyond reproach. I think he would be an excellent candidate."

Nancy's throat tightened, and she clenched her fist in her lap. It was easy to let them speak around her; she had just allowed it, when it meant that she would be free soon and able to do as she wished. Today, she couldn't allow it. She knew her father was fond of Frank. Frank had spent more time with him than with Nancy.

She supposed it made some sense. The way to win the princess's heart was not to woo her, but those to whom that heart belonged. And Nancy had always been a dutiful daughter. Always.

"Many of them are fine young men," Nancy lied through her teeth. "After today's events, I think I might be able to decide on a favorite. If that will please you?"

Her father settled back; he didn't press his claim, and that made her almost slump with relief. She and her father were often able to have candid conversations, but most often they were about her adventures, when she was stumped and needed his help to puzzle something out. Discussing her feelings with him, when she had first discovered she had started her menses... she had Bess and George to talk to, but her father hadn't been able to take over her mother's role in her life. She hadn't been able to confide in him the way she had her mother.

It would be hard for her to be honest with her father and her grandfather, but it would be an hour of unpleasantness, and the rest of her life to deal with the consequences if she didn't. She could tell them that she had found all the guests undesirable in some way, and they would host another week like this, the expense and the strain of it, on top of her grandfather's poor health. She would spend another week smiling and dancing and pretending to be someone she wasn't, and end it the same way.

The only times she had felt like herself this week, other than when she was alone or with her two best friends, were the hours she had spent with Ned. Other men had commented with some jealousy about her choice of dinner companion each night, but she just smiled and changed the topic. They were alone together in plain view of everyone around them, sharing quiet jokes and smiles. He was becoming a friend to her, but in two days, he would be returning home and she would be in the same predicament.

He would be, too. His family needed him to marry someone eligible.

By the time she was seated and waiting for the evening's entertainment, featuring a musical performance, to begin, she was exhausted. Ned was seated beside her. Frank was at her other side, and she knew that her father was responsible for it. Her father was seated behind her, and her grandfather had vowed that he would attend at least the first song.

She couldn't help feeling self-conscious with all of them around her. Some of the potential suitors had already left, sensing that they didn't have a chance to win her hand, but many of them were still in the castle, attending the concert, hoping for a last desperate chance. Ned's close friend Mike was still there, but his other two friends had departed the day before.

She had always thought that she was lucky, but the man of her dreams hadn't appeared to give her the passionless, business-arrangement marriage she wanted. She would have to make a choice soon, from the men around her. And she didn't know them; a part of her didn't want to know them. There was no way to go back, but she wished she could.

And Ned was beside her. She glanced over at him and he looked at her, and they both smiled, and it was the easiest thing in the world. He understood what she was going through.

The musicians were tuning their instruments, preparing, when she gently touched his hand, then leaned over to whisper into his ear. "You asked me if you could be my escort," she said quietly.

"Tonight?"

She nodded. "An hour after this is over?"

He nodded, and somehow their hands were clasped, and they stayed that way through the entire performance. She didn't know when that uncomfortable awareness of everyone else passed away, for her. She was only aware of the music and the warmth of Ned's hand against hers, and for that time, she just felt peace.

Afterward, she bid goodnight to Bess and George, and Frank claimed an audience with her before she could return to her suite and change to a more suitable dress for the beach. "Princess," he said quietly, and despite all the other people in the room, the murmur of conversation and the scrape of soles and swish of clothing, she could feel Ned's gaze on them, and she wanted so badly to look over at him.

Instead she made herself smile at the man in front of her. "I hope you enjoyed the performance."

Frank nodded, a small smile on his face. He was everything that her father and grandfather wanted for her; she understood that, and she wished that when she looked at him, she didn't feel such emptiness or such fear. "I've enjoyed all this time with you," he said, and she was somehow able to keep her expression politely neutral. "I would be more than honored to—to spend more time with you. You're lovely beyond words, and I would worship you. My lady."

At the sound of those words on his lips, her smile faltered. Ned called her that. She didn't want Frank to call her that. She didn't want anyone else to call her that. "You are too kind," she said, making herself smile again. "Thank you. I must admit, it's been a long day. I wish you a good night."

And then he was touching her hand, bringing it up so he could kiss her knuckles. "I'll count the moments until I see you again."

As soon as she politely could, she left the ballroom and headed to her suite, controlling her breathing, her head spinning. It hadn't become easier. It had only become infinitely harder.

Ned was waiting just inside the castle wall, near the gate where she would pass, even though she was at least thirty minutes early. She wanted to run to him; she wanted to fling herself into his arms. She had been in his arms almost every night this week, sharing dances, and slowly he had begun to loosen up with her. He no longer spent half their dance stealing glances at his feet to make sure he was doing okay. He represented the only safety she had truly felt. He didn't judge her or do anything but accept her.

She settled for sliding her hand into his, and he held it tight as they walked silently to the path and began to descend the cliff. She knew the path so well that she didn't even need to think about it, and even though she was with him, even though she knew she was safe with him, a terrible cold wave of panic was rising in her. If they could just get away...

They.

She was slightly out of breath once they reached the bottom, and so was he, but when she reached for his hand again, he was already reaching for hers too. They walked together to the place where they had met for the first time and sat down, and she wrenched her shoes off, her next drawn breath a ragged sob.

"Are you all right?"

She shook her head.

"Did he upset you? Do you want me to go—to find him? I'll go find him and challenge him if he hurt you."

Despite herself, she smiled as she sniffled. "No. Not—not like that. Thank you."

He touched her knee, and she tensed for a second, then relaxed. Frank hadn't touched her in any way that should have made her feel uncomfortable, but somehow it had. Ned was just comforting her.

"Do you want to talk?"

She shook her head. "You asked me what my dreams were," she said. "Ned, what are your dreams?"

"My dreams are impossible, my lady."

"Tell me anyway."

"I'd go back," he murmured. "But that's no dream; it's a childish wish. I'm too stunned to even hope, now. I—when you told me about your life, the adventures you had, I had friends who had saved my life, whose lives I saved in return, who I trusted. I would have lived that way forever, but I no longer can. And I've tried to tell myself that this is just another kind of adventure, but it terrifies me. I... I've never been friends with a woman before, and the thought of forming a relationship with a stranger, of marrying someone I don't know... The only woman I've ever met outside my family who I feel comfortable around is you."

"I feel the same way," she admitted.

He glanced over at her and smiled, then looked out at the ocean again. "I hate it when I see those other men touching you," he said. "When I saw him touching you tonight. It upsets you, I know."

He had moved his hand away from her knee. She glanced down. "It did," she whispered.

He shook his head. "No man should ever touch you unless you want him to," he said.

She took a shivering breath, then turned to him. She swallowed her fear and reached for him, and although he tensed for a second, he relaxed and wrapped his arms around her in return.

She was home. She was home like this, because he would never hurt her.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," she whispered. They had never been this close while they were dancing. She could feel his heart beating. She could feel the warmth of his skin against her cheek.

He stroked his palm down her back, comforting her. "I dreaded this," he murmured. "I didn't want to come. I thought this would be the worst week of my life. But it's been one of the best, because I've met you. You've been so kind to me, when you could have sent me away. When by all rights, you probably should have."

She took a deep breath.

"I can't believe it's almost over."

"What if," she whispered, closing her eyes. "What if it wasn't."

"Nancy..."

She pulled back so she could look into his face, into his eyes, even though she was so anxious that she thought she might faint. "Would it be like this?" she asked him, searching his expression. "Did you mean what you said? Did you?"

He made a quiet noise, then nodded. "You're beautiful and perfect," he whispered. "And the thought of someone hurting you or upsetting you makes me so angry. None of the men here are worth the tip of your little finger."

"You wouldn't hurt me?"

He shook his head. "Never," he said. "I'd do everything I could to make you happy, everything in my limited power. But you... they wouldn't..."

"You would have what you needed. An alliance that would save your parents and their kingdom, a marriage to someone who isn't a stranger. And if you... if you wouldn't hurt me, if you wouldn't take my life away from me..."

His expression was incredulous. "You're upset," he said. "You haven't truly considered this. It's a fantasy. A dream."

She nodded, releasing him so she could fold her arms. "It is," she agreed. "And maybe neither of us wants this, but maybe that's perfect. I can help you. And you... I trust you. I want to believe you wouldn't hurt me. That you would make a fair and honest king."

"In due time."

"In due time," she said. "Ned... you're the only man here who has taken the time to _listen_. You treat me as your equal. No other man has ever done that."

He glanced down at his hands. "I apologize, my lady," he said, and her heart sank a little. "I told you I had little experience. You are so much more..."

She reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his. "I'm not," she told him, her voice quiet and sincere. "Don't set me up so high; it's too far to fall. I just wish it to be like this, Ned. I want it to be like this. Will you be my husband?"

He flushed, so deep she could see it even in the moonlight; his mouth opened twice, but nothing came out. "I have nothing to offer you, my lady," he said softly. "I'm not good enough for you..."

"But your humility and your honesty have won my heart." She smiled at him, though she was shaking inside. "It will be an adventure, Ned. We will make it an adventure. Please. I will—"

He gently squeezed her hand. "Don't," he murmured.

"Beg," she finished, and he hung his head. "My lord."

"You will never beg," he told her. "Never. And when you come to your senses in the morning and realize what a tragic mistake you've made, we will put this dream behind us." He gave her a small, bittersweet smile too.

So the prospect was a dream, for him. "And if, in the morning, I've never been more sure that you're the man I choose?"

He chuckled. "Then I would spend the rest of my life doing all I could to make myself worthy of it," he told her.

\--

"So. Despite all your protests, you _have_ made a conquest."

Ned had expected Mike to be playing cards or indulging in other entertainments with the rest of the visitors, and that he would have the room to himself for a little while, their rendezvous unnoticed; he was more than dismayed to see his good friend propped up in his bed, a wide grin on his handsome face, arms folded behind his head. With a sigh, Ned picked up the sole lit candle from the candelabra he carried and touched it to the rest. Mike pushed himself up, one eyebrow raised in silent inquiry.

"Come on, Nickerson. I've seen the way she can't keep her eyes off you."

Ned sat down at the edge of his bed to pull his boots off. Grains of sand still clung to his toes, and he brushed them away. "Were the games little fun tonight?"

Mike groaned. "Forgot how you clammed up when you didn't want to talk, but you haven't even bothered denying it either. I was wondering if you might want to leave before tomorrow night, but it sounds like we'll be staying through." Mike paused. "I've seen the way you look at her, too."

Ned shook his head. It didn't feel quite real; in the morning, she might beg him to forget her impetuousness. "She's just fond of me. There has been no conquest."

"Fondness is good," Mike said, nodding. He held up a hand when Ned shot a glare in his direction. "And you wouldn't have seduced her, anyway, would you."

"Never. She's worth infinitely more than that."

Mike shrugged. "That knight in shining armor, who would sooner faint than touch his dear lady's skin? A fairy tale. Besides... she's more than an eligible ally."

Ned sighed. "She definitely is more than that," he agreed.

"You know what I mean." Mike leaned forward. "You don't have any experience with women, do you. Straight from the nursery to the uniform."

"It's never been important." Ned unbuttoned his shirt and stripped it off.

"And of course, the unpolished suitor in a sea of refined men would catch her eye. You aren't like the rest of the men here."

"And I don't frighten her, the way Frank does."

Mike shook his head. "That one... I don't have a single reason for it, but I don't like that guy. I'm glad he scared her off. Especially for your sake." Mike's expression was earnest. "You deserve to be happy, and I've never seen you happier than when you're with her."

Ned didn't respond for a moment. Every morning when he woke, it was as though he was counting down to their dance that night. When he went to sleep at night, he kept careful track of how many days were left in his trip. She was the closest he had ever had to a female friend, and the novelty of it was refreshing.

He was happy with her. And now she wanted to change what they had with a marriage.

Maybe she was right, and it wouldn't change anything between them. He remembered vividly her declaration that she would love to open the castle to orphans and disadvantaged children. Her desire that their relationship to stay as it was.

He was also very sure that his parents would expect an heir. The king and her father likely would, too. An heir the two of them conceived together. Maybe they could adopt a child, and he could keep his promise that he would never hurt her.

"Does coupling with a woman hurt her?"

Mike's eyes widened. "I should say not," he replied. "But if the woman is high-born, she might expect something quick and—well, unpleasant."

Ned had sensed that about her. "And if—if it wasn't going to hurt her?"

Mike smiled. "Ready to put the armor aside, then?"

"Mike..."

He held up a hand. "If the woman in question is not convinced that the experience will be bad for her, and if you're willing to take the time... it requires caresses and tenderness. You always were quiet, whenever we talked about that, out in the camp."

"Full of wild boasts, I always thought."

Mike shrugged. "Some of it. So you've never experienced it, not even fumbling behind a barn with a pretty neighbor's daughter?"

Ned shook his head. He didn't bother elaborating. It just hadn't seemed important to him, but to everyone else, his men, the other men at the castle to compete for Nancy's hand, it was almost all they talked about. Even his father's discussion with him about the marital act had been vague.

So Mike told him, almost like an older brother would, what it meant to make love to a woman. She might want no light to expose her to him, and Ned could use his hands, but it might be better if he could see. When she was naked, he would find hair between her thighs as he had, marking where they would join.

Ned's eyebrows went up. Mike chuckled.

"I know. I've seen the statues and the paintings too. It isn't really like that, but it's infinitely better. All warmth and softness, and slippery inside."

"Slippery?"

Mike nodded. "Trust me, it's good."

He said that she would be slit between her legs, but he needed to trace his fingers all the way down, to the lowest point, and he would find where they would join. If he lifted her and moved inside her, with her lying on her back and her legs bent, it might be easier. At the top of her slit, if he touched and stroked her there, if he stroked her breasts, she would likely be very pleased. The pleasure she would feel might be so intense for her that she would cry out with it, like it hurt.

Ned was horrified. How would he know? He would need her to tell him. And the act of it sounded so—mortifying. So terribly intimate, and it might be so easy to hurt her. She was so afraid of being hurt.

He realized that Mike had stopped speaking, and looked up at his friend. "It's hard for me to remember a time when this didn't sound exciting," Mike admitted. "I'm sure it will make sense once you two are together. She really must be sweet on you, for you to be considering making love to her."

Ned shook his head. "I might be a means to an end for her," he said. "Just like she could be a means to an end for me. She might want our relationship to be nothing more than that—business partnership. And I could never hurt her."

"But it doesn't hurt," Mike said. "Once you know how to do it and what works for both of you. At first, when you were learning how to use your sword, you might have ached for hours, but now it's like an extension of your arm."

"Does it come more easily with love?"

Mike shrugged. "Maybe. Mutual interest, definitely. If you spend the whole time afraid of hurting or upsetting her and she spends the entire time anxious and upset, then I don't think it would be pleasant for either of you. Sometimes I think it's easier when there is no love, only mutual attraction. No risk of hurt."

Ned glanced down. "What if she wants me to kiss her."

Mike leaned back again with a quiet chuckle. "And so the soldier becomes the master," he murmured. "Just let me enjoy it for tonight, Ned, the novelty of knowing more than you. I've known some men who found no joy with the fairer sex, but only with their own kind. But you're just a neophyte."

Ned nodded. "You, Burt, Dave, all of you are my brothers," he said. "I'd sacrifice my life for any of you, gladly, willingly. You are the family I've loved for so long."

"But you met her," Mike said quietly, looking into Ned's face. "And it was like finding a part of yourself you never knew you'd lost."

Ned lowered his gaze again. "It's different with her than it has been with anyone else," he said quietly. "I don't know the words for it. I would miss her for the rest of my life, I think, but I want her to be happy. And the thought of another man touching her, hurting her, makes me so angry."

"You love her."

Ned didn't know what to say. "I'd feel the same way if any of the men in my command were threatened."

Mike said something that would have been impolite in mixed company, but wouldn't have been out of place in camp. "And yet with her you want to know how to make love. Deny it all you want."

Ned sprang to his feet, dragging his fingers through his hair as he began to pace. "In the morning she may change her mind about all this," he said. "Realize that I could never be what she wants. That this is all just a dream."

"Or you'll find, in her, what you've always wanted. That home and that family you built with us will always be there, but your bed will still be cold—and you shouldn't sell yourself short. You're a great man, Ned. And you can learn to be the man she wants you to be, just as she will learn what it means to be a wife to you. She could do far, far worse. But I don't think she could do better."

\--

Nancy barely slept that night. There was no chance that she could dream and imagine a different life. She argued with herself, wishing that she could talk to her mother, that she could talk to anyone. Bess and George had commented on Nancy's particular fondness for the tall, handsome, slightly awkward suitor, but they didn't know how far that fondness had gone. She hadn't even truly believed it until she had heard herself suggesting it to him.

_It will work. He's the best man here, the best one I've met, and he will be a good leader. He won't hurt me._

_There has to be another way. What if he wants—that? What if he's angry when he finds out..._

As awful as the thought was, Ned needed her. He needed a rich wife. He would be less likely to accuse her father of trickery or deceit. At least, she hoped. And if he was angry, angry enough that he never visited her bed again...

It hadn't been unpleasant to feel his arms around her, to hold him. In fact, she had liked it. She hadn't wanted to jerk away from him and run as fast as she could, maybe because he was clearly hesitant too, because he hadn't cajoled her into it. If only their relationship could always stay that way...

In the morning she was pale and lightheaded, on the point of exhaustion, but she hadn't changed her mind. He was the best choice she had. Her father might be disappointed, but at least she had made a choice, and she thought that might make them happy. If he was here, then they had already judged him worthy.

In the breakfast room, Nancy gave her grandfather a kiss on the cheek, and wrapped her father's shoulders in a small hug. They both smiled at her, anticipating what she was going to tell them.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning," her father said, his eyes bright as he gazed at her. "You look happy this morning."

Nancy took a deep breath and let it out, then smiled at both of them. "I am," she said. "I've made my decision."

Her father rose from his chair. "Have you? Please tell us."

"Baron Lockridge. Edmund Nickerson. He—we have danced together several times." She wanted to keep talking, but she took the seat her father pulled out for her and folded her hands in her lap. Her head, under her skin, felt like it hummed.

"The supper dances? Yes. You two make quite a handsome pair." Her grandfather smiled.

Nancy blushed a little. "Thank you, Grandfather."

"So you and Frank didn't hit it off as well as I wished." Her father shrugged, then reached for his fork. "Lockridge comes from a good family. I'm pleased for you, sweetheart. And we can announce your decision tonight?"

She shrugged. "We could announce it as soon as breakfast is over," she suggested. "Invite his family and hold a wedding feast instead of a betrothal ball, once they have arrived."

"My, you _are_ eager." Her grandfather reached for his napkin to stifle a cough, and Nancy half-rose from her chair before he held up an arresting hand. "If that is what you wish, we will make tonight a sort of farewell to the others. I will send a formal invitation to Lockridge's family. It will be nice, to meet the newest members of our family. And Lockridge too. We can talk to him over dinner?"

And then, her choice made, it was as though all the power and influence around her took a breath and swept it all out of her hands. Ned was her chosen husband. The machine had begun to turn, to sew their fates together.

Ned didn't look like he had slept either, but as soon as he saw her coming in to take her place on the dais for lunch, his handsome face lit up with a smile that made her heart skip a beat. Another man might have held her gaze, coming toward her, leaving her spellbound, but Ned glanced down, then back up at her.

And that was when she _knew_ , beyond all doubt, that this was right. It was the sincerity, the vulnerability, that she saw in him. He wasn't polished and he wasn't hiding, and all he could give her was himself.

She didn't want to hurt him. She didn't. But he could stay her friend. He would forgive her. She prayed that he would forgive her.

He came to her. "So I'd ask if you've changed your mind..."

She shook her head, squeezing his hand. "It will be official in a few minutes. Unless you're having second thoughts."

"No. No second thoughts. I want to make you happy, my lady. I just need you to show me how."

The announcement was made a few minutes later, before service began, and her father told the gathered men that he hoped they had enjoyed their stay, and they were welcome to stay through the night's entertainment as well. Nancy caught herself hoping that most of them would leave that afternoon. The four of them could share a quiet dinner, one that she could hopefully make less painful. She could tell Ned was a little anxious, once she told him about the plans for dinner, but she was kind of looking forward to learning more about him. He was such a good listener, but he often brought a conversation back to her rather than discussing himself.

Her dress for that night was a soft rose; it had been ordered for her betrothal dance. She knew that her wedding dress was already being prepared. The gown her mother had worn for her own wedding was being fitted to her, a cream-colored satin embroidered with red roses and green leaves, and she had no objection. At least that way she would have some way to feel close to her mother on such an important day.

Her parents had been the product of an alliance, but she had also seen the tenderness and affection they felt for each other. It had not been born overnight; it had grown over time, as they learned about each other and became friends. It might happen to her, but in a way she thought that it already had. He was her friend and he cared about her. Making an alliance with him didn't have to ruin that.

Over dinner, Ned was candid with her father and grandfather about his parents and their situation, even though she could tell it pained him. He was ashamed of it, but it wasn't his fault or theirs. He spoke of both his parents with deep affection, and Nancy found herself becoming eager to meet them.

Their marriage would unite the kingdoms, including the one his parents held and the one that had passed to them. That was something else she hadn't really considered. It was a lot of responsibility, many people to care for, grievances to hear and correct, improvements to plan, blessings to share. It would keep both of them more than busy.

The next morning, the few remaining guests began to take their leave. Bess was particularly sorry to see the house party conclude, but she was bubbling with ideas about the wedding, so many that Nancy could hardly keep up with her. The machine was truly in motion; Ned's parents would soon know about the betrothal and impending wedding, and would be on their way to witness it.

Even though it didn't surprise her, she was still dismayed when Sir Franklin requested a private audience with her that morning. She agreed to meet him in the courtyard; Bess and George would be nearby, and though they only needed to alert a guard to any trouble, Nancy was privately sure that George would try to take care of it herself. She didn't know why she was so nervous around him, more than she had been around the other suitors. He didn't even try to disguise his interest in her, but then none of them had. It was why they had come, after all. To try to win her hand.

That was what had made her panicked, and what had made Ned so appealing to her. Instead of just trying to seduce her, he had become her friend.

"I must say, I was disappointed to learn that you had chosen someone else. I hope he's a fine man, but I know he will never make you as happy as I could have."

Nancy forced a smile instead of speaking her mind; it was a skill that had taken her a long time to develop, but it had saved her more than a few times. "But I have every assurance that he will try," she replied. "Good day, sir."

He reached for her hand, and she was unnerved when his gaze lingered on hers and his lips brushed her knuckles. "If you find that he is unequal to the task, my lady, I would be delighted to make up for any disappointment he might cause you, in any way."

She sensed a meaning in his words that she didn't quite understand, and took a step back without consciously deciding to do so. "Good day," she repeated, making her voice more firm this time. If he persisted, she would feel no guilt in summoning either of her friends to intervene. She was formally betrothed, after all.

After he took his leave of her, another man approached her, and Nancy relaxed a little once she recognized him. She had shared a dance with him earlier in the week, and he had been quite a skillful dancer, and he had a sense of humor. She had enjoyed that dance more than most of the others, but that anxiety had still been in the back of her mind.

"Congratulations on your betrothal, my lady," Mike said, and she offered her hand for him to bow over. "He is a fine man. If you had to choose someone other than me, you could definitely do much, much worse."

Nancy smiled. "He is a fine man," she agreed. "Thank you, sir."

Mike released her hand, but was still gazing into her face. "Be gentle with him," he said quietly. "He feels deeply for you."

"And I am very fond of him," she replied. A part of her wondered if Bess or George, or both, might have a similar conversation with Ned. "I'm glad he has a friend who cares for him as much as you do."

Mike shrugged. "He's an exceptional leader, and an even better friend," he said. "It will be a shame to lose his companionship in the field, but I would be happy to make you even pairs for a ball. And, of course, to see the wedding, should I be permitted."

"Oh, of course," Nancy said immediately. "Of course. Thank you."

"Thank you, my lady."

And _that_ , Nancy thought once Mike had taken his leave, was how she wished Frank had said goodbye to her. With several of her disappointed suitors, goodbyes were brief and perfunctory; they were already thinking of the next challenge. It would be a relief, for the castle to go back to its usual quiet chaos, and for her to...

But that made her stop short. It was so hard to think that she would never go on another adventure again. She wouldn't be riding off with Bess and George in search of another mystery, just as Ned would no longer be sharing adventures with his men.

The realization was saddening, just as it always was. The thought of what her life would become was worse. She just prayed her fears were unfounded, and that her fate would not leave her bitterly disappointed.

\--

The chapel was full of people, many of them the subjects of the king, come to see his granddaughter's wedding. Her family was small, and suddenly it made sense to Ned, how very important this ceremony was. She needed someone else. Maybe her desire to adopt other children had been a part of that.

As for Ned's family, nearly all of them had traveled to see the wedding. Their clothes might not have been quite as fine as her family's, or their manners quite so lofty, but he loved them. They had immediately done all they could to welcome Nancy as one of them, and he had heard his grandmother and several of his aunts and female relatives giving Nancy what was definitely well-meant but probably unwelcome advice, about marriage especially. _The poor motherless girl,_ one of them had commented quietly to another.

It was her wedding day, and his. Ned's parents had been so happy to see it, to meet their son's choice. They had gladly brought with them all Ned had asked for: the large, brilliant sapphire set in a pendant with diamonds, hanging from a golden chain, and the diamond-circled golden band that had belonged to his great-grandmother. Betrothal gifts for the woman who would be his queen.

She wore the sapphire necklace as she walked down the aisle to him, in an old-fashioned gown of cream-colored lace and silk embroidered with gold flourishes and roses. She had worn the necklace on the night of their delayed betrothal ball, a dance attended almost exclusively by their families and close friends, and they had shared all but a handful of dances. As she walked to him today, he could see her blue eyes gleaming behind her veil. As much as they had agreed that this was what they wanted, this was the best possible outcome, he also knew that it would never have happened if they hadn't both been in need of a spouse. In her heart, she had always wanted to be free, just as he had.

He had been lonely. He just hadn't realized it or recognized it, because he had spent most of his life that way. And then he had met her, and with every day that passed he knew that he never wanted to lose this feeling, the feeling that he was finally truly _home_.

When she reached him, a pair of tears slid down her cheeks, and she sniffled. She let their hands be joined, and her skin felt cool against his. He gave her hand a small reassuring squeeze, and she gave him a weak smile in return.

Ned was aware that when the time came, she would be queen, and he would be her husband, a king-consort. He was intended to be her advisor and her partner, and father of heirs. When it came to the kingdoms he would inherit, though, she would be his full queen. Maybe the prospect frightened her, but from all he knew about her, she would be an amazing ruler, made even more so because she was proving to herself that she could be. Just as he would be.

The vows that they made, that he would protect her and she would obey him, seemed quaint to him. They didn't speak of love, just respect and honor, and he supposed that made sense. He was very fond of her, he felt deeply for her, but he sensed that she wanted nothing more from him, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

He was terrified of what would come that night, though, and how to find out what she wanted. It would be a relief, if she only wanted to talk, if their relationship stayed the same way it had been. He hated feeling out of his depth this way, and envied Mike's charm and confidence. For him, it wouldn't be this frightening.

Ned slid the gold band onto her finger when the priest directed it, and marveled at her. Her fingers were so slender, her skin smooth. She was beautiful and she was _real_ to him, in a way no woman outside his family ever had been. Maybe they would find a way to be just as candid with each other tonight as they had been these past weeks. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

If only. If only. He had been told his responsibilities, by her grandfather and father, and by his own father. Maybe they would not enjoy sharing the marital bed, but it was expected of them.

Ned didn't care what anyone else thought—they would be married whether or not they consummated a sexual relationship, no matter what they had been told—but it was part of all of it. From the anxiety he saw in her eyes, he thought that maybe she had been told the same thing.

Quick and unpleasant, or something more.

When they greeted their guests at the castle for a feast and a celebratory dance, it was easier to let himself get caught up in the excitement and happiness. Ned was told that he would make a handsome king, that he had large shoes to fill, that he would keep his princess happy or endure the consequences. The two girls closest to Nancy, the ones she had told him were like her sisters, had told him something similar. She was precious and her happiness was in his hands.

The thought made his stomach drop to his feet.

The celebration was at once never-ending and abruptly over. At the end of the last dance, a dance that Nancy had spent in his arms, her gaze more often fixed on his throat than his eyes, it was time for the guests to take their leave—and cast knowing glances and winks at the two of them. Her nervousness was unmistakable, and Ned felt for her. He wished the departing guests safe journeys and thanked them for coming to witness the wedding, heading off any less polite remarks as politely as he could.

Ever since he had been sure that she had no intention of changing her mind, that this day would come, he had been able to feel something like a thrumming under his skin, an anticipation like he felt when he expected a well-matched battle. The object couldn't have been less similar, though. There would be no sparring, no fight. If she wished it, there would be tenderness and softness. The sweetness of her lips parting under his, which Mike assured him was good, though he could hardly imagine how. And her body welcoming his, instead of fighting it. Maybe.

Nancy, his wife. Nothing had changed. Everything had.

His rooms had been changed to a new set, smaller than the suite he had shared with his friends, but these were meant only for him. To one side, connected to his room, was a dressing room—with another door, leading to her room. His wife's room. Where he was expected to...

Would she be relieved or disappointed, if he stayed in his room all night, if he let her have a night of peace? Would she feel that he didn't desire her, and be hurt? She had told him over and over that she wanted what they had, and he had heard it echoing, that desire that she wouldn't be hurt.

She was to be his partner. He could go to her tonight as her friend and find out what she wanted, as terrifying as the prospect was.

His cheek shaved to glass-smooth, a black and gold velvet dressing gown wrapped around him, Ned made his way slowly to the door of the dressing room, the bedside candle in his hand. For a breathless moment he imagined that he was mistaken, that due to some misunderstanding she was elsewhere in the castle, and he would sleep alone tonight...

But he tapped on the door, then cautiously turned the handle. It wasn't locked.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her long blonde hair hanging loose down her back, uncovered and unplaited. She wore a simple cotton shift and the gold band he had placed on her finger, and her feet were bare.

Her head was down too, and when he took a step into the room she brought up a handkerchief to blot her tears. Then she looked up at him, and he had never seen anyone look so miserable or so afraid.

He put the candlestick he carried on the table at her bedside and then lowered himself to his knees at her feet, gazing up at her. He hardly knew what to say; he didn't want to make light of her feelings or briskly reassure her that all would be well, when he was so entirely out of his depth, when he wasn't even sure exactly what was upsetting her. He reached for one of her hands, looking up at her face.

"Please tell me what to do," he said, finally, quietly. "Is my presence upsetting you?"

She sighed and glanced down for a second. "Today isn't finished," she murmured, and wiped her eyes again. "I'm just—afraid. I'm sorry."

"Can I do anything?"

She shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I didn't want you to see me like this."

He didn't have the heart to tell her that, especially near the end of their wedding ball, she had looked like this, like she was on the verge of tears. "Can I hold you? Maybe that will help."

She nodded, almost reluctantly; she didn't look relieved at his suggestion, and Ned's heart sank. He moved onto the bed and, for the first time, was sharing it with a woman, was sharing it with his wife. It was too much almost to even comprehend. He reached for her, and she moved toward him, still tense and upset.

"It's all right," he told her softly, stroking her back. The rigid bony thing she wore under her formal dresses was gone, and he could feel the warmth of her skin beneath her shift. "Our wedding was beautiful. You were the most beautiful part of it."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"And if you want me to return to my room, or if you... if you want us to proceed—I..." He made a frustrated sound. His words were tripping all over themselves, and he was hoping she didn't misunderstand. "I only want to do what you want."

She was quiet for a moment. "Right now I just want this," she murmured. "If you please."

"Of course, my lady."

"Nancy," she whispered. "My lord."

When she began to relax, finally, Ned pulled the covers up over them both, then slid his arms around her again. The candles cast flickering shadows around them, and he closed his eyes, feeling her breathe.

Maybe to Mike, the thought of making love was exciting, but to Ned it sounded mostly uncomfortable and strange. This, holding her and feeling her close to him, knowing that she wasn't as upset as she had been, offering her comfort and knowing it was doing some good, that felt infinitely better. Her hair smelled clean and rather like her, with a bit of the breeze from the sea caught in it.

His home was with her. They could take walks by the sea and talk to each other as they had, and share this, and he would be more than happy. As long as she was happy.

He didn't know how long it took him to fall asleep, or how long he did sleep, his new bride in his arms. When he woke, it was to find the room dark, the only faint illumination from the moon and stars. Nancy was sitting up at the head of the bed, her arms wrapped around her bent legs, and his arms were empty.

For a second he considered just closing his eyes again and letting her stay alone with her thoughts, but if he could help her fall asleep again, he wanted to. He had enjoyed being close to her.

"Are you upset with me?" she asked him quietly, and he could hear the rough edge of tears in her voice. "That I couldn't..."

He sat up, shaking his head. "No. I was a little relieved, in fact. I've never..."

He made a slight gesture with his hand, and she took a quiet breath. "Oh," she murmured.

"You couldn't?"

She shook her head. "Um... I was hurt. By a man. And since then, I..." She sniffled, bowing her head, and couldn't continue.

He wanted to move closer to her, but he was afraid she would be startled or upset. "I was told that it shouldn't hurt, or at least not much," he admitted. "But I don't know..."

She snickered. "He wanted it to," she murmured.

When he heard that, Ned's blood boiled. "What happened?"

She sniffled again, and gratefully accepted the handkerchief he gave her. "I was helping a young man whose property had been robbed. He was trying to locate the stolen goods. I was following some clues, and I was in a barn, checking—I was trespassing, but it was for a good reason." She looked down and shivered. "And then he found me, the man who owned the barn and had been stealing. He told me he'd teach me a lesson, and..." She shook her head. "I bled for two days," she whispered.

"He hurt you," Ned said, and she nodded, without speaking. "Did you tell anyone? Your father, or the sheriff?"

She shook her head. "He told me that I'd have to admit where I was, and he was right. I had been in the wrong, and no one had witnessed it. And I... I was ashamed. That he could hurt me like that..." She started crying in earnest.

Ned reached for her, holding her and rubbing her back, although he was still reeling. No wonder she had been so afraid of tonight.

"I would never, never hurt you like that," he told her. "Never. Where does he live?"

She shook her head and wiped her eyes. "I could take you to see his grave, if you wish," she told him. "He was killed when he and his brother tried to rob a coach, about six months ago."

Ned relaxed, if only slightly. "So he was never brought to justice for what he did to you."

"I like to think that in a way, he was," she admitted softly. "I know that you—that you expected me to be a virgin. I'm sorry."

"Why would you be sorry? Nancy..." He cupped her face in his palms and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I hate that you were hurt that way. I hate it with all my heart. And I don't care if you want to wait a while, or if you never want to—to consummate, with me. You're my partner and my friend and I would rather die a thousand deaths than cause you any pain. I would gladly dig up the man who hurt you, though, and kill him all over again."

She gave him a tentative smile, though her eyes were still shining. "You aren't angry with me?" she whispered.

He shook his head. "Of course not," he murmured. "You were wounded and you picked yourself up and kept fighting."

She looked down, shaking her head. "But I couldn't fight," she murmured. "I tried as hard as I could. He was so terribly strong." She took a shivering breath edged in a sob.

"And you're the bravest person I know," he told her. "To go through today and come to tonight and face something like that all over again. Come here, my lady. Rest. I won't hurt you."

She blew her nose, then settled down with him again, sighing as he stroked her back. "Shh," he murmured. "Shh. Rest now. Shh."

"I was so afraid," she whispered, cuddling against him. "Thank you."

 She relaxed against him more quickly than she had before, but Ned gazed toward the night sky, wondering how someone could possibly have done something so terrible to her. In his training, he had been taught the rules of fair play, of mutual respect. But that man had _wanted_ to hurt her.

He kissed the crown of her head, gently, and she shifted in his arms. "I'll never hurt you," he whispered, and closed his eyes.

\--

Slowly Nancy woke the morning after her wedding day, beside her new husband. His arm was slung over her. She felt a little shaky, but she had expected to feel a lot worse. She had expected to be in pain, bleeding, upset.

But it hadn't happened, and though she was relieved, she knew her reprieve was only temporary. She would be expected to have a child with her new husband, as soon as possible. That had been made clear to her, and her fear and anxiety had all but ruined the celebration of her wedding. All she had been able to think about or imagine was how much it would hurt.

And then he hadn't touched her. He hadn't hurt her. Even once she had admitted the truth, he hadn't been angry with her for misleading him, for her lie by omission that she was a virgin. She had only recently, after a rather circuitous conversation, decided that she would have known by now if she were pregnant as a result. Her courses had never been suspiciously interrupted, in the time after.

It had hurt so much. It had been brutal and the violation of her body had been total; she had been mortified, on the verge of hysteria, and it had been so hard to drag herself from her bed afterward, even after the bleeding had stopped and she hadn't felt quite so tender anymore. She had never wanted anyone to ever touch her that way again; she couldn't imagine how it could possibly be pleasant or good. Not even with Ned. Not even with the man she had unwillingly given her body to.

But he had said he didn't mind if they never—did that.

She turned her head to look at his sleeping face, only beginning to understand how lucky she was to have married him instead of someone else. She had sensed that it often wasn't a choice. It was expected and unquestioned. But he had asked her what she wanted, and he had comforted her.

And he had never been with anyone else.

He took a soft breath and then opened his eyes, and she blushed a little, to be caught gazing at him. He gave her a sleepy smile, then brought his hand up and gently brushed his thumb against her cheek.

"Good morning, Nan," he murmured.

"Good morning," she murmured. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes." He moved over toward her, and her heart skipped a beat before he kissed her forehead. "Are you all right?"

"I think so. Yes." She searched his eyes when he moved back to look at her. "I can't believe... I never dreamed that it would be like this."

He smiled. "And I never dreamed it would be like this," he told her. "Nancy... when my parents leave in a few days, do you want... maybe we could go back with them? Just to have a little change of scenery. You are the new princess, after all. And we wouldn't stay too long. I know you're concerned about your grandfather."

She considered for a moment, then smiled. "Like a honeymoon," she said. "And you could take me around to see the kingdom, and we wouldn't have to endure all the winks and knowing glances..."

He nodded. "We could pack a tent and supplies and sleep under the stars, with no winking in-laws for miles around. If you feel equal to that challenge."

She grinned at him. "It would be so easy if I—"

_—needed to do that while solving a mystery_ , she almost said. Her heart sank.

"If you what?"

She brought her gaze back up and forced a smaller smile. "If I have a good teacher," she replied. "And I'll pray for good weather. I can imagine camping is terrible in the rain."

"It is," he agreed. "But we can find inns, if we need to. Pretend we're normal people again and just live, for a little while. If you want. Just man and wife."

That sinking feeling dissolved into cautious hope. "I would love to."

The next few days were awkward for both of them. No one came out and said anything to Nancy, although Bess came close, but she could sense what they were thinking, what they assumed, and it embarrassed her. Ned had always been completely respectful of her, and though it was comforting to sleep in his arms, they did nothing more. She dropped a few hints with Ned's mother, and soon she and Ned had accepted a warm, delighted invitation to come stay with them for a few days.

Her new husband, and they would be all alone together. At least in the castle with her father and grandfather, she could raise an alarm if she needed.

But Ned had never made her feel threatened or upset, or anything other than—safe. The lure of pretending they were free, even if it was only for a few days, was too strong to resist.

Nancy packed her casual cotton dresses and a few beautiful ballgowns, and the slippery satin and lace nightdress that was part of her trousseau, more because it was expected than because she thought she would wear it. She also couldn't resist packing the few tools she had picked up for her investigations.

Ned chuckled at her obvious happiness the night before their departure; her trunks were already packed and waiting to be loaded onto the coach, and she couldn't stop grinning. "You look beautiful right now," he said, and though her first impulse was to shy away from him, to close down, she didn't sense any flirtation behind his words, just a statement of fact.

"And you look just as happy as I feel," she told him. "Thank you for suggesting it."

He opened his arms for her when she moved into the bed, and she settled against him. "Thank you for agreeing," he told her. "It will be nice to go home for a little while. We can tour the new kingdom. See what needs to be done to put things in order."

"That will definitely make your parents feel better." She nuzzled against him, absurdly glad that he had volunteered to hold her on their wedding night, that he had set the pattern of their relationship. If he had just left her alone to sleep without him, it would have been easy to just stay that way. This just felt so comforting.

Ned took a deep breath, then pulled away from her so he could blow out the candles at the bedside. As the darkness settled over her, she felt herself relax, even though she was too excited about the next day to sleep. This was a real adventure, not just one she had made up. She hadn't realized that she was this angry at her father and grandfather for insisting that she marry, that they had hoped she would be lucky enough to find a suitable partner during the week. It made her feel worse that she truly was fond of Ned, and that he had turned out to be such a good husband, even in the short time they had been married. It was as though she had proven them right, and was ungrateful about it. She supposed that she should feel thankful, but she wasn't, not yet.

"Nancy?"

"Hmm?"

His lips brushed her forehead. "I don't want to upset you," he said. "Truly, I don't. I've been told in no uncertain terms that we... that certain things are expected of us."

She held her breath, going still and cold, and she fought the urge to scramble off the bed. He had promised he wouldn't hurt her. He had promised.

"And if you still wish to delay, even permanently, I understand. I do."

"But you don't wish to." Her voice was barely a whisper.

He sighed. "I think that the longer we delay, the harder it might be, to... to think of each other that way. But the thought of upsetting you makes me sick. Nothing is worth upsetting you. And maybe... since we care about each other, and since I won't be trying to hurt you..."

"I don't know how it could ever be good," she told him softly. "I'm sorry, Ned. I am. But they expect... that. They think we've been... like that since our wedding night."

"It's rather mortifying."

"It is," she agreed, and sighed. "I suppose I should be glad you gave me a few more days..."

"It's not like that." He touched her cheek in the darkness. "I swear to you, I've never felt this way before, but being close to you these past few nights... I find myself thinking about it, about what—what we're supposed to do together, and..."

"And you want to."

He made a quiet frustrated sound. "But I don't want to hurt you."

She closed her eyes. "And—" _when_ , she wanted to say, but she paused instead. "If it hurts, will you stop? And give me time?" She didn't think the rest of her life was enough time to accept the idea. But he was her husband, and she had accepted it. She had just been lucky he had let her wait these few days.

"Yes. Of course."

She believed him. He meant what he was saying. But she began to shiver, and she rolled onto her back, fighting that same urge to scramble away from him. Her belly was tight, her hands clenched into fists.

"Nancy. Oh, Nancy. Shh." He very gently touched one of her fists, then clasped it in his hand. "Forget I said anything. It can wait. It should wait."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Shh. Come here."

She couldn't make herself move, but he cuddled close to her and draped his arm over her, and she took a deep breath. Her heart was still beating too fast. And it would never be comfortable again, to be with him this way. Not if she imagined that he was just waiting.

But she was facing him. He couldn't hurt her the way that other man had.

"You want to be with me," she whispered.

"M—" Then he sighed. "Uh, Mike... he called it 'making love,' not hurting. He said that if I did it right, it wouldn't hurt you, or it would just take some practice. And everyone... they make it sound like it's all we should be thinking about. I'm sorry. I didn't want to upset you. We should just go to sleep."

"It won't hurt," she repeated, skeptical.

"I... I don't want it to. But I have no experience, and I know... it will take practice. And that's what makes me nervous."

He had only ever touched her gently. She couldn't believe that he wanted to be with her, that he desired her. She had been terrified that he would. She had only wanted him to be her friend.

But he was her husband, despite what she had wanted. She couldn't be mad at him. He was a man and she was his wife.

She took a deep breath and tried to speak; at first, nothing came out. "Then—then we should try," she said, hardly believing she could say it.

"We have time," he said, after a few seconds. "It doesn't need to be now."

"But it will just be harder," she whispered. She had healed from her attack, physically. She had no true reason to put him off any longer, other than her fear. Once it was done, once he discovered that it wasn't as he had imagined, maybe he wouldn't want to do that with her again. Unless they needed to. Unless they needed to have a baby.

He moved and very gently kissed her forehead. "I've never wanted this," he whispered. "Never. But, with you, I... I've never felt this way before."

"I've never felt this way either," she whispered, and it was true. She didn't feel desire for him, maybe because what had happened to her had hurt so, so much, but she felt a fondness and a friendship with him that she hadn't felt with anyone else. "I'm just so afraid," she whispered.

"I am too," he whispered, and his breath was warm against her skin. His palm was against her belly.

Then his lips brushed against the corner of hers.

She closed her eyes, trying to make herself calm down. "I... I think I need to see you," she whispered.

Immediately he slid out of bed and took a candle over to the fireplace, where a small fire was slowly dying. He lit it and brought it over to the bedside, touching the small flame to each of the other candles, and she felt like she was going to cry. A silent tear slid down her cheek.

She wanted to let herself be hysterical, to scare him or dissuade him, but she also didn't want to hurt him. And he was afraid too.

He sat down beside her and she made herself look up at him, to remember this. He really was handsome. His dark eyes were sweet and anxious. He looked nothing like the man who had attacked her and used her.

"I'll be so gentle," he murmured. "As gentle as I can. I wish we weren't afraid."

She gave him a small smile. "And I'm glad I was lucky enough to find someone like you," she whispered.

He was barechested, and she had liked feeling his skin under her cheek when she had been falling asleep in his arms, but now it felt... almost like a promise, like a threat. The man who had attacked her—she hadn't seen him, hadn't been able to see his face while he had hurt her, and she hoped that if she was able to keep her eyes on Ned, it would help her focus on now instead of then.

He reached for her hand and brought it up to his chest, pressing her palm against the skin just over his heart. "It can be good," he said softly. "I have to believe that. I have to believe that if we care about each other, it won't hurt us. Maybe it will be strange at first..."

She gently brushed her thumb against his chest. "Yes," she whispered. He didn't know. He just didn't know, and she felt tired, and maybe it would be easier if she just gave in to him. If she could just make herself relax, maybe it would be quick.

He leaned down and kissed the corner of her lips again, her palm still against his chest. Her hand closed into a fist and she closed her eyes, trying to relax, to just let him do what he wanted. He pressed his lips fully against hers, and then he drew his hand up from her chest to cup her breast.

She shivered, flinching a little, and he stopped moving. Her chest felt tight, and she brought her hand up to touch his shoulder blades, to stay in contact with him. "I'm okay," she whispered, trying to make herself believe it.

He released a breath and gently kissed her again, his lips soft as they pressed against hers. She didn't know how to respond to him, especially not when he gently caressed her breast. When she had been attacked, she had been bruised there; she remembered a hard grasp, the way he had chuckled when she whimpered, when she cried out, when she begged him to stop.

Ned's touch was gentle, though, and when she looked up at him she was able to relax a little. She could see how nervous he was. "Does it feel good?" he asked, searching her eyes, and his brow was furrowed slightly as he brushed his thumb over her hardened nipple.

The sensation made her gasp and tense, then relax. "Oh," she whispered. "I..."

He smiled, then shifted his weight so he could caress her other breast the same way. He drew a circle around the hard tip of her nipple with his thumb, then stroked over it, through the thin fabric of her nightgown.

She shivered, her eyelashes fluttering down. She didn't know if it felt good; it was overwhelming, so intense, but it didn't hurt. He wasn't hurting her.

"Nancy? Do you want me to stop?"

She took a breath and slowly shook her head. "No," she whispered. "Not..."

"Not yet," he finished when she didn't. "Okay. I'm glad you like this. You feel... good. So soft and warm."

"Thank you," she whispered self-consciously, and when he smiled at her, she did too. "Thank you for not hurting me."

He shook his head. "You don't ever need to thank me for that," he murmured. "You're my precious wife. I never want you hurt."

She shifted under him, and began to timidly caress his bare back with small circles of her fingertips. "I think it feels good," she said cautiously.

"Good." He touched the neckline of her gown. "Your skin is so soft," he whispered.

Then he leaned down, nuzzling against her neck, his fingers still caressing and stroking her breasts. She was too afraid to think of what would come next; instead she focused on the feel of his lips against her skin, the soft kiss he brushed against the base of her throat, the warmth she felt as he gently fondled her.

She had to stop touching him when he moved back and cupped his hands over her shoulders, then began to push her gown down. Her anxiety began to grow again, and she panted, wishing she could see into his eyes again.

"Shh," he murmured, moving to look into her face. "It's all right. Just like this?"

He bared her breasts, then lowered himself to her again, nuzzling and caressing and kissing her bare skin. When he kissed her breasts she closed her eyes tight, but his lips were soft and warm, and she stroked her palm over his hair. He still hadn't tried to do what she was waiting for, and at least this felt nice.

"Good?"

"Mmm," she murmured in agreement, and then he trailed kisses up her neck, until his lips were pressed to hers again. She felt his knee slide between her legs, and then his tongue traced the seam of her lips.

She opened her mouth in surprise and his tongue gently stroked against hers, and he lowered his body to hers, until she was pinned under him. She whimpered and he moved back, gazing down at her.

"I know—it feels strange, doesn't it? Maybe I'm not doing it right. I'm sorry."

"I..." He didn't seem to realize what was making her upset, but she thought she would be okay. "I was just surprised. It is a little strange."

"Until then, it was okay?"

"Yes." She searched his eyes. "Is this what you wanted?"

He nodded. "As long as you like it. I..."

He touched the hem of her gown, moving to her side so he could draw it up, and she squeezed her eyes tight shut, her hands clenching into fists. It was just at her knees when he stopped.

"Nancy... has anything I've done hurt you?"

"Not yet," she whispered, without opening her eyes.

"Then have a little faith in me. Please."

Her eyes were stinging when she opened them again. "It's hard," she whispered. "Ned, it's so hard..."

"So let's take it slow. Here." He reached down and began to strip off the shorts he wore, and she blushed hotly, turning away. He touched her knee and she flinched, wondering if he would roll her over. Instead, he began to pull her gown up again. She had to take a breath before she could arch to help him, and when she was naked, she covered herself as best she could with her hands, shivering.

He pulled the covers up over them, but she was still painfully aware of his nakedness and what he wanted. It felt strange, to be naked between the sheets of the bed they shared. She had never considered it before, but after the attack, she hadn't wanted to be naked for longer than she needed to be. She hadn't wanted to be vulnerable. Not that her thin nightgown had provided much protection.

He settled beside her again and she forced herself to look at him instead of closing down and closing off. He didn't look malicious or lecherous, only curious and cautious, and tender.

For the first time she began to wonder if what he imagined wasn't anything like what she had experienced. She hoped so. God, she hoped so.

His bare palm came to rest on her stomach, and though every new touch had made her flinch, she looked into his eyes and placed her hand over his. "I'm glad I can see you," he murmured. "You're so beautiful."

She smiled. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'm glad you think so."

He leaned down and kissed her again, and this time she parted her lips under his and felt him stroke his tongue against hers. His hand moved up to stroke her breast again, his fingers gently fondling her nipple, and she felt another flood of that same warmth spreading down her torso, a tingling wherever he touched her.

Then his hand traced down, slowly, to her navel, to just beneath. She broke the kiss, just breathing. He cupped the join of her thighs, his fingertips brushing through the curls there, and she shivered, trying to keep herself calm.

"Are you all right?"

She didn't know how to answer him. She reached up and slid her arm around him, her fingertips trailing against the back of his neck, against his spine.

"Here," he whispered, and his fingertips traced down the seam between her thighs, where she bled every month, ever since she had become a woman. She whimpered quietly, afraid and curious. She had never felt so sensitive. She had never felt anything like what he was doing to her.

"Right here," he whispered, gently probing, and he parted her and touched between, and she gasped, arching. "Hurt?"

"No," she whispered, trying to process it, trying to understand. "What... what are you doing?"

"He said it would make it easier for you, to touch you here..." He drew his fingers up, all the way up, and kissed her neck, and she shivered when he stroked the wet folds of flesh inside her, at the top of that seam, inside her—

"Ned," she whimpered, and finally let herself bend her other leg, blushing again. She couldn't want this; she couldn't, she couldn't, and she was afraid, but it hadn't hurt her. Not yet. She felt warm, and she was afraid to tilt the angle of her hips, to encourage him.

And then he traced his fingers all the way down, to the lowest place between her legs, and gently probed, and her flesh was wet and tender. "Is this hurting you?"

"No," she whimpered. "No— _oh_..."

"This is where—" Ned was panting quietly. "Where he hurt you?"

She shook her head, her brow furrowing. "He was behind me," she whimpered. "He wasn't—where you're touching me..."

"So this is okay?"

She moaned quietly, then gasped when he drew his fingers up, stroking up and then down again, tracing over a tender place that made her shiver with delight so intense it was pain. "Yes," she cried out.

"Good?" He nuzzled against her neck, then kissed her, using his thumb to rub against a small button just inside her while he used his fingers to gently probe low between her thighs. She sobbed, her lips parting beneath his, her hips tilting up.

When he broke the kiss, looking down at her, her sight was blurred with tears, and she felt so hot, so overwhelmed. "Please, this," she whispered, her voice catching as she gasped. "Please don't... hurt me..."

His fingers slowed. "Is this hurting you?"

She shook her head. "When he attacked me, it—he didn't touch me like you are. Not like this..."

Ned's gaze went from her lips back to her eyes. "I think Mike told me this is where we..." He trailed off, blushing a little. "Where we join together," he said finally.

"Yes," she whispered. "Please, touch me..."

He began to stroke her again, and she strained, panting. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Oh..."

The sensation was even more intense when he kissed her chin, her neck, all the way down to her bare breasts. She ran her fingers through his hair and slowly relaxed into the delight of it, letting down her guard. If he wasn't going to touch her where she had been hurt before...

He stroked her until she had bent both legs, until he moved between them. His finger moved inside her, slowly, but what was driving her crazy was the stroking of his thumb against that sensitive place, and his nuzzling against her breasts, his kisses against her nipples. She tipped her head back, flushed and naked in the bed they shared, incoherent with wonder.

"Are you ready, beautiful? Do you want me to try?"

She moaned, trying to focus on what he was saying. "Okay," she murmured.

He moved over her, and she remembered when he had pinned her down, and her heart skipped a beat. "It'll be okay," he murmured. "It feels good, doesn't it..."

"Yes," she whimpered. "Oh, yes..."

Despite what he had told her, despite where he had been touching her, she couldn't help tensing a little when she realized he was lowering himself to her. "Here," he whispered, and gently parted her. "Oh, Nan..."

She closed her eyes when she felt something thicker than his finger touch her between her legs. "Oh my God," he murmured. "Can you look at me? Are you all right?"

"I... I think I'm okay," she whispered. "I'm just nervous."

"I am too," he admitted. "When he told me about it, I didn't realize... that it would be like this."

"You like it?"

He nodded. "I like that it's making you happy," he told her. "I want it to be good for you. I don't want you to be upset."

She reached up and touched his face. "It feels good," she whispered. "I didn't think it would. I didn't think you would care this much."

"I'm so afraid of hurting you," he said. "I just couldn't stop thinking about this..."

She took a deep breath when she felt him brush against her again. "Slow?" she said softly. "Please..."

"Of course," he murmured, and kissed the corner of her mouth. "My lady."

She felt a throb of mingled anxiety and cautious anticipation when he shifted over her, and she smiled briefly when she realized that he was trying to figure out the best way to do this. Then he moved gently inside her, just a little.

She couldn't help tensing. It was Ned and the circumstances were entirely different, but it was still the presence of someone else inside her, and it had hurt her before. He kissed her again, releasing a sigh.

"Can you relax?"

"Mmm," she moaned, focusing on him instead of her fear, trying to force herself to stop being so anxious. Then he pushed a little deeper inside her, and she shivered again.

He did take it slow. She could vividly remember how rapid, how brutal and painful the attack had been. Even though almost everything about tonight was different, Ned's body was pinning hers down, leaving her powerless, and she was still nervous.

But she clung to him as he moved inside her, gasping as he moved deeper, far deeper than she had imagined he would, until he was filling her. His lips brushed her temple and she shivered.

It didn't hurt. She felt a little sore, but it was nothing like the way she had felt before, or the way she had thought this would be. He held himself inside her, nuzzling against her cheek, kissing her forehead, the tip of her nose.

"It feels good," he said softly. "Does it feel good for you?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "It doesn't hurt, though."

He gave her a small smile. "Mike said we might have to practice," he said. "Is it okay if I move?"

"Okay," she whispered.

She had to admit, even if it was only in the privacy of her own mind, that seeing his delight as he moved inside her did make her happy. He wasn't doing this to hurt her; he was doing this because he wanted both of them to feel pleasure, and he had given her such pleasure. It felt awkward and strange to her, not unpleasant, and she kept her gaze on him as he moved inside her.

He had done everything he could to make theirs a real marriage; he had given her far, far more than she had ever dreamed. And he had taken pains to make this better for her. She had a feeling that if he hadn't, it might not have been quite as painful as her attack, but it would have been just as traumatizing. He had made her feel safe and beautiful—

And then he groaned, pressing deep inside her, and she drew a deep breath and relaxed, accepting him. He released a pleased sigh, lowering himself to her, and she rested her palm against his back, her brow furrowing and then smoothing. She hadn't thought all of him would fit inside her.

Apparently she _had_ been a virgin for her husband, in a way. If he had just spilled his seed inside her, then there was no way she could have been pregnant from the man who attacked her. What had been done to her before had hurt so much partially because it had been unnatural.

His seed. Ned's _child_.

She ran her fingers through his hair and closed her eyes when he sighed and kissed her temple. "Nan," he whispered. "Oh my God. I hope it didn't hurt you..."

"No," she whispered. "I just feel a little sore, but it's okay. It's not like before."

He kissed her forehead. "Good," he whispered, and when he began to move out of her, she whimpered quietly. "Oh, hang on..."

He crossed to the basin in the corner of the room and wet a cloth, then brought it back to her and gently wiped the join of her thighs. She was shivering, and she pulled the covers over her, then realized she was still naked. She felt so tired, though. The pleasure she had felt when he had touched her had slowly subsided, although she had felt a little bit of it again when he had been moving inside her.

She couldn't imagine any of the other men who had tried to win her hand being so gentle or tender with her. She couldn't imagine sharing this experience with anyone other than him.

He came back to her, blowing out the candles before he joined her in bed, and she nestled her head against his shoulder and relaxed against him. It still felt strange to be naked with him, but not uncomfortable. Just new, and different.

He kissed her forehead again. "That was incredible," he murmured. "And it will be better next time. If—if you want..."

She smiled against his skin. "I suppose it wasn't so bad," she teased him quietly.

"Wasn't so—"

She moved up and brushed a soft kiss against his lips. "It was very nice," she told him. "And now that I know it's nice, it will be better next time. Whenever you... want me."

He stroked her hair as she settled against him again. "I... Thank you, Nancy. For letting me. I'm so glad it didn't hurt you."

She nodded sleepily. "Good night," she whispered.

"Good night, honey."

\--

_You love her. Like finding a part of yourself you hadn't known you'd lost._

Love meant nothing and everything. Ned loved his men; he loved his parents and his family. He loved a crisp autumn night and a roaring fire waiting for him.

He had no word for what he felt for her. When he considered everything, the circumstances of their meeting and what had drawn them to each other, their misery at the choice they were being forced to make, it seemed terribly complicated. It seemed like his feelings for her were almost a defense mechanism, to keep him from becoming so depressed at the way things had worked out. If he had hated her...

But he didn't.

He wished that he had met her sooner. He wished that he had been able to accompany her on one of her adventures, or all of them. He couldn't wait to show her the home where he had grown up, even though he was nervous that she would be far, far less than impressed. He wanted his parents to adopt her as the daughter they had never had, and love her as they loved him, beyond the mere convenience of the marriage.

She wore a brown traveling dress and her hair was pinned up in curls, and her blue eyes were so bright as she looked at the scenery and followed the stories his cousin told, nodding and smiling, interjecting only occasionally. She had hugged her father and grandfather goodbye, had bid a heartfelt goodbye to her two best friends, but she had only cast a momentary glance back at Eldbriar. They would be back, after all. She was going on an adventure, and she would return to her home. She wasn't clinging to Ned's hand, miserable that she was leaving her home for the first time, that he had suggested this.

He didn't have words for how impressed he was, how proud he was of her, but he wasn't surprised. In everything save her apprehension about their wedding night, she had been wonderful. Even when she had admitted how she hated to be in this position, needing a husband and accepting the responsibility she had been born and raised to handle, he had still admired her.

Surely that was better than love. Love was being weak and vulnerable, and he only felt that way when he thought of not being with her. She was... she was beyond his dreams. She was everything.

It wasn't love. It was fondness, and fondness was safer. Mike didn't know what he was talking about. And he had only been doing what their families expected, when he had slept with her...

He didn't like the idea of having sex; he liked the idea of having sex with _her_ , with her willing and responding and pleased, and now that she understood what it meant and it hadn't hurt her... during their trip they were both exhausted and around other people almost all the time, and he had hated the idea of embarrassing her by suggesting it. But back in his room, maybe...

"Ahh. Here we are," Laurel, Ned's cousin, said as the coach finally reached the top of the hill and Ned's family home came into sight. "This would have been quite a tedious trip without you, my wonderful new cousin. I know you'll enjoy your time here. And who knows; you might find reason to stick around."

"So I was no help at all," Ned teased Laurel. "I know I might not be quite as beautiful..."

"Nowhere near," Laurel told him, then winked. "You do make a beautiful couple, though."

He didn't know when his hand and Nancy's had joined. He had taken more uncomfortable coach rides, and everyone was tired from traveling for so long, but they were home now. Even if it was temporary, he was still happy to see it again. To see her there.

Once they were on solid ground again, he could still almost feel the coach moving under them, but he was still glad to be home. His mother immediately said she would show Nancy to her room, so she could rest and freshen up for dinner. He didn't think he would be hungry, but he found that he was ravenous.

Nancy looked like she belonged there, in his parents' house. Ned didn't know if it was because he was so fond of his family's home and wanted so much for her to be comfortable and happy in it, but she moved through it with grace and poise, and she was kind to his parents, who had to be boring her with their accounts of everyday life. She never displayed any signs of boredom or disinterest, though she did cast one glance back at him when his mother was leading her into the kitchen for that tour.

Late that night, he was bone-weary, but his appetite was sated and a comfortable bed was waiting for his aching muscles. He had washed away the sweat and grime of travel and felt almost human again as he prepared for bed.

Nancy had plaited her hair, or her maid had; she wore her usual simple cotton nightgown and nothing more, and she gave him a smile when he joined her in her bed. "Feeling lonely, Ned?"

He shook his head. "Not anymore," he told her, drawing her to his side so she could rest her head on his shoulder. "Maybe I was too ambitious, when I said we could take a journey so soon. That was arduous."

"But at least the company was pleasant."

Ned released a contented sigh, even though his muscles were protesting as they began to relax. It had never been like this when he had been on the field, but when he had felt as safe as he could, when someone else was on watch, he had slept deeply, without dreaming. All the aches had been forgotten, because they had been worth something. Tonight, this was his reward. Having his wife safe and warm in his arms.

He could still remember staring up at the ceiling in this bed, unable to sleep, heartsick at the thought of this.

That night he curled up with her, his arm protective over her, his legs tucked behind hers. It felt natural; it felt like an extension of their talks during the dances, on the beach, during meals. It felt like a way to comfort her, and him, to show her something familiar.

When he woke, his palm was resting over her belly, and he found himself wondering if his seed had already begun to grow inside her. It made him wonder if a week on horseback was a good idea, but he wanted to be alone with her. He wanted the time to be close to her. He planned on being by her side for a long, long time.

The next night, after a tour of the countryside that was part of his parents' estate and large gatherings with his soon to be departing extended family members, Ned took his wife's hand and escorted her back to the room they shared. A fine dusting of freckles had appeared on her nose and cheeks after Ned's younger cousins had drawn her into games with them in the wide field behind the house, basking in the bright sunlight, and she looked so beautiful. She looked happy.

"Ned?" she murmured, glancing up into his face, that same small smile turning up the corners of her lips. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking about you," he admitted. "How beautiful you are, and how right it looks, you being here. You look like you belong here. I'm so happy to be with you here, and I hope you are too."

She glanced down, and then back up, into his eyes. "It's an adventure," she admitted. "I've never been around so many people before... well, you know what I mean. They're all so nice to me."

"They love you. And why wouldn't they? You're fascinating and beautiful and different."

Her smile became wider. "You're too kind, my lord."

"And I know that this isn't what we had imagined."

He sat down at the edge of the bed, and she cupped his face in her hands, a faint blush rising in her cheeks. "It's not," she agreed softly. "And it's better. For me, anyway. Because it's like nothing I could dream or wish for. Sometimes what we fear the most... turns out to be a blessing."

"Has this been a blessing?" he asked her softly.

"I think so," she murmured. "I hope so. I'm sure that I was lucky that you were invited to the house, and that you came, and that we met. You don't treat me as your wife, and I'm so glad, Ned. You treat me like your friend, and that means so much more to me." She bit her lip for a second. "Are you sorry? That I asked you to marry me?"

He shook his head. "I'm not sorry," he told her. "I'm glad you're happy. I... I don't deserve you. You're more generous and kind than I had ever imagined. And you let me be your husband." He gently rested his palms on her hips, and she blushed faintly. "You let me... be with you..."

It was ridiculous, but he didn't know how to ask her; he didn't want to mortify her or embarrass her. They were happily spent from the day, but not exhausted from the tedium of travel. Before his departure, he had been able to see the strain that their predicament was putting on his parents. Now, they were relaxed and happy. Their conversation with Nancy's grandfather and father had cemented the joining of their kingdoms. Their safety was assured, and their marriage had caused it.

He had wanted to be mad at them. A part of him, slowly fading, still was. He hated that he would never know what might have been, if circumstances had brought them together some other way, if he had always been meant to be with her. Maybe... maybe, if their lives had been different, maybe they would have fallen in love instead of settling for each other.

But he truly couldn't call what he had with her "settling." If anything, she had settled for him. Somehow.

Her eyes were a little brighter as she searched his. "Do you wish to be with me again?" she murmured.

"Only if you wish it, princess."

She shook her head, stroking her thumbs against his cheekbones, over his temples, down to his ears. "Don't call me 'princess,'" she murmured. "Not here, not like this."

"My lady. My Nancy."

"My Ned," she replied softly, then leaned down and very gently brushed the tip of her nose against his. "Why do you want to?"

"Because I desire you," he admitted, his face warming under her touch. "Only if you wish it, too."

"You enjoyed it?"

She was blushing, but he could also tell she was curious. "Yes," he murmured, quietly. "Is the thought disturbing to you?"

She shook her head, although she still looked thoughtful. "We must have an heir, after all," she said. "I... I'm not sure how I feel about it. I was so anxious last time... and I was so anxious during our entire wedding day that I practically ruined it with anticipation."

He gently moved her to sit down on his lap, and held her as she gazed into his eyes. "Not all of it," he told her. "But the closer we were to night, the more upset you looked. I hated it for you."

"I thought you would hurt me." She lowered her gaze; the words were barely loud as a breath. "I just didn't want to be hurt again."

"And you never will be," he promised, reaching up to stroke his hand down her hair. "Now that you know it won't be like you had expected...?"

She glanced up at him again, then nodded slowly. "Okay," she whispered.

And their gazes held, and he almost forgot how to breathe. She really was beautiful. He had told her countless times, but it struck him again: intelligent sapphire-blue eyes, creamy skin, rosy freckle-dusted cheeks, soft kissable lips. She could have chosen any man; she had chosen him.

"Close your eyes," she whispered.

He obeyed, and he was almost shocked when, a few seconds later, he felt her brush her lips against his in the softest kiss. He was holding her, and without conscious thought he drew her closer, but she was still dressed as she had been for dinner. Too many layers were between them.

"Nancy," he whispered, and tugged gently at her gown. "Please..."

She smiled. "As you wish."

He watched her; he couldn't help it. He helped her unfasten her gown, all the way to the last button, and then she shrugged it down and began to unlace her stays. He saw the way she visibly relaxed, almost sagging, once the confining garment was off. Once she was down to her shift, she turned to him again.

"Here," he murmured, gesturing for her to sit down at the edge of the bed, beside him. He took his time unpinning her hair, and when he was finished, a stack of pins had been left on the bedside table and her blonde hair was falling in loose messy waves down her back. It was the way he most liked to see her.

His wife. Oh, his wife.

"Do you still want to see me?"

She considered for a few seconds, then nodded. "If you don't mind."

"Not at all."

His immediate impulse, once he joined her under the covers in their bed, was to push the hem of her gown up and slide home between her legs. Mike had said that the caressing and fondling would make her, and him, enjoy it far more, though, and she had been so passive their first time. He had never seen her as a passive person; even the week of what had turned into their courtship, she had fumed at being denied her freedom.

Her eyes widened in surprise when he drew her onto his lap, so she was facing him, her knees on either side of his legs. "Hmm?"

"If you wish us to see each other," he pointed out, gazing into her eyes. "If you wish to... show me how you would prefer to be touched."

She blushed again, then. "I would hardly know," she admitted. "I've spent a long time hoping I would never be touched again."

"Hmm." He stroked her sides a few times, then the neckline of her shift. "But we're free, together. We're both inexperienced. I want you to feel pleasure, too. You deserve that."

She gave him a small brief smile. "When you were just stroking and kissing me... that was nice."

He nodded, suddenly speechless. Before they had met, he had imagined this as a stilted, awkward act, one that would leave him self-conscious and relieved when it was over. He hadn't been relieved when it was over; he had been relaxed and he had felt warmth toward her. He'd been grateful to her, for letting him touch her as he had, despite her fear.

Over the first few nights of their marriage, he had realized that he was slowly becoming less reluctant about coupling with her, that he was curious about it, even if he wouldn't have said he was eager. It was such a strange sensation, to imagine joining to another person that way. But it was as though speaking their vows had been the key he needed to understanding how it might happen, how it might feel less like duty and more like a pleasure.

And it had been pleasure. When Mike had described her inner flesh as slippery and warm, he hadn't dreamed it would feel as it had. It had felt _right_ to him, and spending his seed inside her, thankfully, hadn't hurt her. All his world, in those moments, had become her and the gift she was giving him.

Together, slowly, they leaned toward each other, and he drew her to him until their hips were in contact. Their lips brushed and then met in a long sweet kiss, and he felt her breath against his cheek, the flutter of her long lashes. He cupped her hip with one palm, reaching up to stroke her hair and cheek with the other. His fingertip found the curve of her ear, tracing down to her earlobe and the graceful line of her neck.

_Quick and unpleasant._ He never wanted this to end. He never wanted to let her go.

Her lips parted and a warmth radiated through his chest, and she giggled when their tongues touched. Her eyes were bright when he pulled back to look at her. "It's still so strange," she admitted.

He nodded. "It is. I guess we just need to practice some more."

"Okay."

He had never seen his parents exchange more than a quick kiss on the lips or cheek. Maybe he hadn't quite understood Mike's instructions as well as he'd thought. When he nuzzled against her cheek, her jaw, her neck, she released a quiet, pleased sigh, tipping her head the other way.

Her closeness, her obvious pleasure, her willingness... Ned felt his body react to hers, and she made a quiet inquisitive sound as he kissed her shoulder. "Mmm?"

"Yes," he murmured. "I'm sorry, is it upsetting you?"

"No," she said quietly. "I just... if I asked you to stop..."

"I would. Do you want me to stop?"

She shook her head. "I don't," she admitted in a whisper. "Do you know how strange that is... for so long, I thought this would only be pain..."

He smiled at her. "And I thought I would never want this," he admitted. "That it would only be an unpleasant responsibility. I can't imagine being like this with anyone other than you, Nancy."

"And I... I feel the same way," she sighed, as his lips brushed the base of her throat. "Mmm..."

He touched her knees, then pushed the hem of her gown up to her hips, caressing her outer thighs and the smooth warmth of her bare skin. She moved and then he felt her nuzzling against _his_ neck, kissing his shoulder.

"How do you like to be touched, Ned?" she whispered against his skin.

Ned flushed. "Um," he stammered, his palms cupping her hips. "Um..."

"It's a hard question, isn't it." She brought her head up to smile at him. "When you don't even really know. Did that feel good to you?"

He nodded. "Y—yes," he said, feeling somehow exposed.

She kissed his earlobe, then licked it. He felt like he was burning up, and his erection responded immediately to the contact. "And this?" she whispered, her breath warm against his ear.

He shuddered. "Why don't you let me show you," he muttered, and did the same thing to her.

She giggled, and the way she squirmed against him made him feel even more desperate. "I'm tingling," she whispered. "Why did that feel so good?"

"Sounds like a mystery," he said with a smile. "Let's see if it works on your other ear..."

Soon they were sprawled on the mattress, tangled around each other, kissing and nuzzling and laughing. He pulled her shift up until her breasts were bare and nuzzled against them, and she moaned quietly, arching so she could pull the garment off. "Why are you still wearing clothes," she grumbled, as she gasped for breath.

"Your wish is my command." He pulled off his own clothes and looked down at her, her long pretty legs and the darker-blonde curls between, the hardened dark-rose tips of her breasts, her sparkling blue eyes. "Aren't you cold?"

"Come warm me up," she suggested, reaching up for him.

She was eager. She was willing and happy. And Ned couldn't believe it, not when she drew him down to her, when her bent legs came up to cradle his hips. She ran her fingers through his hair and he nuzzled against her neck, taking his time instead of playing with her like he had.

"Touch me," she whispered, and he shivered. "Touch me like you did the first time..."

He kissed her earlobe, her cheek, then her lips, pushing himself up on his knees to put space between them. He ran the backs of his fingers down from her shoulder, down to her breast. She moaned softly, and he felt the mattress dip as she shifted her weight.

She looked dreamily pleased, her lashes low and her lips parted, as he fondled and stroked her breasts, noting the way her hips shivered when he touched her hardened nipples. Their coupling would be brief, once he was inside her; she wanted to savor it, to take their time, and he did too.

He didn't understand why touching her between her legs excited her, but her response was almost immediate, the way she writhed and rocked under his touch. He thought that maybe she was holding herself back; she had been very surprised by all he had done to her during their first time, too cautious to do anything more than feel, and he thought that tonight, all she wanted was to enjoy it as she could have that night, instead of fearing it.

"Oh," she moaned, her hips tilting as he slid his fingers in and out of the hollow that would sheathe him, and she was wet and tender and wonderful. That small button at the top of her slit—his strokes could make her gasp and quietly sob, to writhe, to flush and moan, and he felt incredibly powerful and in total awe of his ability to do that. He rained kisses on her neck, her shoulders, her breasts, and she ran her fingers through his hair and giggled when he traced his tongue against the skin between her breasts.

"Is this what you wanted?" he murmured, moving back to look down at her, and she looked almost like she was straining. Her back was arched, her hips gently moving in time with his strokes, her lips parted. "Did you want anything else..."

She gasped, and when her eyes opened, they were gleaming. "Please," she whimpered. "Oh, oh my _God_..."

Ned's heart was beating faster, and he searched her face for any sign of what she wanted, but she looked desperate, and he remembered that Mike had said she might look like she was in pain. She wasn't pushing him away or asking him to stop, though, and he remembered how it had been for him. Pleasure so intense that it was almost like pain.

He moved between her legs, and decided that it might be good for her if he kept stroking his thumb against that small button of flesh as he moved inside her. She looked up at him, and he saw a brief flash of anxiety in her eyes. This was the part that had scared her the most the first time, and he didn't blame her.

But she felt so good. He was able to find a good angle more easily this time, and her hips were still moving; she was panting, whimpering, one fist clenched. "Oh," she moaned, and he leaned down, until he was gazing into her shining blue eyes.

"Yes?"

" _Yes_ ," she whined, gasping for breath. "Ohhh..."

He nuzzled against her, trying to focus, to keep himself from ending it too quickly. Her inner thighs stroked against his hips and she moaned again, then blindly kissed him, almost sobbing as he stroked his thumb against her again. "Oh!"

"Okay?"

She sobbed in response, and he felt her inner flesh clench and release around him. He blinked, wondering if she was trying to force him out.

"Tell me, Nan, you have to say it, I'm getting nervous..."

"Don't stop," she whimpered. "Please please _please_..."

He had never seen anything like it, the way her body responded to his; he had never felt anything like this. Even the first time, she had been accepting him and he had been moving inside her, but she had been passive. Now...

He didn't know if it would work, but he moved fully inside her, then gathered her to him. Her eyes flew open as he moved her so she was astride him, so they were sitting naked and facing each other in their bed. Her beautiful face was flushed, and when he gazed into her eyes, he knew she was enjoying this. Enjoying being with him. Just as he was enjoying being with her.

This wasn't just a duty to him. This was pleasure.

She was still panting as she draped her arms over his shoulders, gazing back at him. "What... what are we doing," she murmured.

"I've never thought you were a passive fainting flower," he murmured. "Do you want to... to show me? I thought I might be hurting you..."

She glanced down, then took a breath and reached for his hand, guiding it to where they were joined. He smiled slowly as he slipped his thumb just inside her, and the effect on her was immediate. She tipped her head back, and her inner flesh clenched and released around him in a quick spasm.

"What do you want to do," she gasped out. "Because this... oh my _God_ , this feels so good..."

He rocked his hips once, and she moaned. "Mmmm. It feels good for you? To move?"

He nodded. "I don't know why," he murmured. "Does it hurt you?"

She shook her head, slowly. "Like this?" she whispered.

And then Ned's own eyes rolled back as she moved up, then lowered herself onto him again, slowly. "Yes," he groaned. "Oh God, _yes_..."

"Keep," she murmured, and he realized his strokes had all but stopped; when he switched hands and began to rub against her again, she moaned and pulled back for another thrust. "Oh yesssss..."

Mike hadn't described anything like this, although he had been sure to tell Ned that there was much, _much_ more he hadn't had time to tell him about. He had thought the first time was amazing, but it had all been new to him, and _this_... the sight of his wife astride him, her soft flesh golden in the candlelight, face to face with her...

They both moaned on her next descent, and he cupped her hips. "Faster," he begged, stroking her faster to encourage her. "Please?"

She smiled. "Mmm. Since you begged me..."

She draped her arms over his shoulders again, embracing him as she rode him, and Ned thought he had somehow died, especially when their gazes met and locked. There was something so incredibly intimate about it.

_Like finding a piece of yourself you never knew you'd lost._

He suddenly knew with total, unquestionable certainty that she _was_. That it would never have been like this with anyone else, never. He would never have known this—

This love.

He wasn't just coupling with her; he was making love to her. And like this, seeing that she found pleasure in it too, felt incredible. He was devoted to her, and he would be for the rest of his life. His parents had tried to tell him, but he just hadn't understood.

His lips turned up, slightly, although he had rarely felt more afraid than he did in that moment. "Okay?"

She nodded. "I," she whimpered.

And then he felt it, and it was all he could do not to cry out. She shuddered and then began to ride him hard, and he kept stroking her, but when she clenched around him again, he grasped her hips and laid her down. She wrapped her legs around him as he began to move in her, in long, deep strokes, and her eyes were wide when they met his.

Then he touched her between her legs again and she drew a deep breath that he could tell was going to turn into a scream; he kissed her and she screamed into his mouth, and he moved deep inside her and gave in to the need to spend himself.

When he broke the kiss, they were both trembling, flushed and glowing with exertion, panting. She moaned quietly, wrapping one arm around his shoulders, and he relaxed his weight onto her and immediately felt like falling into a deep, sated sleep.

_I love her._ The realization, still sharp and undeniable, sent a tingle down his spine. Maybe he always had. Maybe that was why it had been so hard for him to imagine her being with someone else. With anyone else.

She made a soft surprised noise when he kissed her again, when he nuzzled against her and then moved back on his elbows to look into her eyes. She took a breath and then smiled at him, and his heart skipped a beat.

_What if she doesn't feel this way?_

_What if she_ does?

He pressed his lips against hers, gently. "I think," he murmured, and then made himself look into her eyes. "I don't think, I know. I love you."

And then he gently pulled out of her, afraid she would think that he was putting her on the spot, but he didn't care. He was her husband and he loved her, and there was no shame in it, whether she loved him or not.

Mike had been wrong, though. She was so much more than just _a part_ of him. When they were together, he felt happier than he had ever known. He was grateful to be in her presence; he was grateful for her friendship and every sign of affection she showed him, every bit of herself she shared with him.

He crossed to the basin to dip a cloth in the water and return to her, and she was sitting up, her face still flushed, the blonde hair at her temples darkened by sweat. She took the cloth he offered and wiped her thighs, then handed it back to him.

But then she shook her head, like she was coming back to herself, and stood. She splashed her face with water from the basin, then turned to him, naked, her skin gleaming. Ned could feel the sweat drying and cooling on his own skin; his knees felt like rubber.

She dried herself off and then stood in front of him, just as she had before, and smiled at him. "I feel like I could sleep for ten years," she told him. "And I... that..." she shook her head. "It was like nothing else... and I love you too."

He could hardly believe it. "You do?"

She nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "I do."

He reached up for her and she leaned down, kissing him slowly and sweetly. "How did this happen," she whispered, as he cupped her hips and then drew her onto his lap. "How were we so lucky..."

He shook his head. "I don't know," he whispered. "But I'm so glad we found each other. I'm so glad I found you."

\--

"Daddy..."

Ned mumbled something in his sleep, but it came out slurred and meaningless. His wife burrowed into the pillows and he tightened his arm around her. His knees were tucked behind hers, and her body fit almost perfectly against his.

"Da-ddy..."

The singsong made him snuffle and bring his head up a few inches, to see over Nancy's golden hair. "Mmm?"

Jenny grinned at him. "It's morning! Time to get up!"

Then he heard the unmistakable sound of his son's footsteps, reverberating against the stone floor of the hallway. " _Daddy!_ "

Ned grunted, collapsing to the pillow again. "Mmm. Mmmm..."

Nancy groaned and shifted onto her back. "Oh. Hi Jenny."

"He's coming."

Jenny had dark, neatly plaited hair, dark eyes, and dusky skin; she was one of the four children that Nancy and Ned had brought back with them from their week-long honeymoon and tour of the kingdoms. All four of them had come from the lands impoverished by mismanagement while many of the able men had been drafted to do battle, and most of those men hadn't returned. Two were brothers, James and Jack, who had been in their aging grandparents' care; the other girl, Marie, had been employed as a maid when they had stayed at a small inn during a storm. When she had discovered that they would provide a loving home to any children who needed it, she had come to Ned and tugged on his hand, her dark eyes shining with tears.

All four of them lived in the castle; all four of them attended the village school with the other local children. Marie was partial to Ned, and he tucked her into bed and read her a story every night. Jack had been sullen and sad for the first month, but he had come around, especially once Prince Edmund had arrived and wrapped him around a tiny, chubby finger. Ned's son treated all four of them as his older brothers and sisters, and Jack loved being an older brother instead of an annoying younger brother.

Jenny scooped up Edmund once he toddled in, and then Nancy reached for both of them and gave them a hug. "Rawr!" Edmund growled once Nancy released him, and then climbed toward Ned.

"We have to get dressed," Ned told his son, but he couldn't help grinning at the sight of his sweet dark eyes and reddish hair. "We're going to the chapel today."

Edmund nodded. "For Kay," he said, his voice serious.

Princess Catherine's christening was an _event_ , just the way her older brother's christening had been. All her grandparents and extended family had been invited and had come to see it.

And, as though her brother's voicing her nickname had alerted her, they both heard a wail. Marie came to the door with a length of ribbon in her hand, and gave Jenny a pleading look; then the nurse came in with Catherine in her arms.

Catherine, Ned had been told, was the mirror image of her maternal grandmother, but Ned wasn't sure how Carson could tell yet. She was beautiful, but Ned was partial to her. To him, she looked so much like Nancy, with dancing blue eyes and her wisps of blonde hair.

He loved the four children they had adopted, but he was also aware that they were teaching him just as much as he was teaching them. He was learning how to be a father, how to instill discipline and how to love. Edmund and Catherine had a nurse to change diapers and arrange meals, but when it came to reading stories or climbing trees or carefully supervised trips down to the seashore, Nancy and Ned were there.

Their babies. Their heirs, conceived in their bed and by their love.

As soon as the nurse brought in the little princess, Nancy sat up and extended her arms with a smile. She had nursed their son and now she nursed their daughter, even though the housekeeper and Nancy's maid had tactfully recommended that she employ a wet nurse. She had always enjoyed being close to their babies, though, and she didn't mind that her figure stayed more generous than usual for a while after.

Ned didn't mind it either. When Nancy nursed their daughter at night, she was often exhausted; Ned took the baby after and gently burped her, cuddling her close, then returned her to the nursery so she would be watched over through the night and her cries wouldn't wake them. He always wanted to be with their children, though. He loved that James came to him and told him everything he had learned at school that day, and that Jenny never grew tired of Nancy's stories.

Nancy had intended to give them a better life than the one they would otherwise lead, and Ned had no doubt that they did, or that they were happy. It made him love his wife all the more that she had suggested it, and that she hadn't abandoned her desire when she had discovered that she and Ned were more than compatible in bed.

The morning was a flurry of activity: cleaning up and dressing in their finest clothes, finding shoes and handkerchiefs and toys, making sure everyone had a snack before they left for the chapel. A celebration banquet had already been planned for their return, and Carson couldn't have been more proud of his newest grandchild.

Catherine was so young that the entire trip to the chapel was strange and new, and the long white satin and lace family christening gown was enormous on her. She was fussy during the short ride to the chapel, but Nancy dried her tears and soon she was grinning again. She whimpered and sobbed a little when the priest blessed her and formally christened her, but then Ned kissed her and she wrapped her tiny fist around his index finger, and cooed at her parents.

During the banquet and the time afterward, Ned's family kissed and held the new baby, and bestowed their own blessings on her. Ned's cousin Laurel was increasing, and her husband Chandler was waiting on her hand and foot. Ned's parents especially were in love with the little princess, and after she had held her grandchild close for a few long moments, Ned's mother came over to Nancy and wrapped her in a long hug, murmuring something to her that made her smile.

That night, all the children were exhausted, and so were most of the adults. Nancy and Ned went up to the nursery to kiss all six of their children and tuck them into bed. Jack was fast asleep as soon as his head was on the pillow, and Marie was holding her baby doll close as Ned read her a story.

When Ned straightened up again and glanced over, he saw that his wife was nursing their daughter, gazing down into her tiny face with such an expression of love that it took his breath away. He came over to them and stroked her soft hair, then kissed her forehead. Ned gave her anything he thought might make her happy; their son was growing up, and learning how to share his toys.

Ned had thought his love for Nancy was infinite, and it was; that had never changed, not since he had realized it, not since he had first come to know her. But his love for his children was infinite, too, the ones that he had conceived with his wife and the children they had adopted together.

"Daddy?"

Ned smiled at his son, crossing to kneel beside his bed. "You remember what we talked about?"

"Kay safe."

Ned nodded and ruffled Edmund's hair. "Right. You're Katie's big brother. She'll depend on you, okay?"

He nodded, and Ned gave him a hug. "Love you," Edmund murmured.

"Love you," Ned replied, and kissed the crown of his head. "Sleep well, baby."

Once they were in their room, settling in for the night, Ned wrapped Nancy in his arms and she released a happy sigh. "I'm so tired I can barely keep my eyes open," she murmured. "It was nice today, though. Nice to have everyone here."

"Mmm-hmm." He slid his knee between her legs, and she snuggled against him. "I have everyone I love here. Starting with you."

She chuckled. "And I have everyone I love here, too," she murmured. "Starting with you."


End file.
